Come Sundown
by Brandey
Summary: Amelia Linton is the daughter of Mary. The women set out on a journey across the frontier in search of a better life. When Amelia crosses paths with Arthur Morgan, a mysterious stranger from her mother's past, she asks for mentorship from the talented gunslinger. This sets in motion events that throw her right in the middle of Dutch's gang - their adventure, riches, and downfall.
1. Fortunes of the American Frontier

**A story that will follow the Red Dead Redemption 2 timeline of game events. My OC included. Hope you enjoy, and please review - it would be lovely to see the interest in this story and any options the readers have.**

**Enjoy, Brandey XX**

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**Fortunes of the American Frontier**

The prairie, the wayward wind, the long line of the horizon, smudged when the dust begins to rise. That is the way any travel imagines the open road. With a hint of promise from a new world full of possibilities. In the state of New Hanover, the land retained its wild streak, almost untouched by modern society. A whistle from the Southwestern Railroad train resonates through the natural stillness of the area as the heavy machinery rumbles down the track. This is America in 1899.

Amelia Linton stares out the window of the train heading south through the state. Her arms folded, and a chin resting atop, while her weary green eyes took in the passing scenery. The hundred-mile journey was nearing an end. The city was far behind now.

The landscapes of the heartlands were characterized by rolling hills and plains. A herd of wild horses galloped across the open land. The girl's gaze follows, awing at their grace and the majesty of the freedom they represent. They hold all the land under the thrall of the hoof. All creeds and conditions, all factions and forces, all must give way to the galloping horses. She placed a hand at the glass window; all that beauty in reaching distance, all that freedom. She closed her eyes and swore she could feel the hoof rumbling the ground.

"Are you even listening?" Mary Linton placed a hand on her daydreaming daughter.

"Hm?" Amelia, ever so lazily, lifted her head to turn her attention to her mother.

"Oh." Mary waved her hand dismissively at her daughter's before pointing towards the galloping herd that was not disappearing into the horizon just outside the window. "The horses, aren't they just so graceful?"

"Yes, quite an arcadian view."

"This part of the country is lovely." She pats her leg, gleaming with hopeful joy.

Amelia turned back her attention to the window, less than impressed with her mother's facade of excitement; hiding the true nature of their need to travel. Both women were once more on the road and looking for stability. The economy was shaky, money was not an easy thing to come by; to name a few reasons.

Mary paused as she shuffled in her seat, before attempting conversation once more, "Daddy is a good man, he promised to welcome us in Saint Denis, we'll be back in the city in no time, back on our feet. Besides, Valentine is a charming settlement, so Jamie writes. A small town really, but we won't be making home there, we'll all be moving on sooner than you expect, back in the city."

"I don't mind the city or the country, t'is not the problem Ma'." If anything, the tone of her voice was a clear indication of the lack of enthusiasm about another home in a strange new town.

"Don't you start," Mary quickly replied, "Just stay positive, I have a plan for us."

She promptly agreed with a head nod, sparing herself another lesson about humbleness. Mary would often lecture her daughter regarding the necessity of certain decisions. For that reason, Amelia would bite her tongue and stayed quiet. All for mother's sake - and her own sanity.

"Next stop, Valentine!" The train conductor announced loudly. Tall and lean he was, with greying hair and dressed neatly in the familiar brown uniform of that particular railway, he walked down the train aisle, smiling at the passengers. "Valentine, ladies and gentlemen!"

Mary placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, "'Melia, we're nearing our stop, help me with the luggage."

She did as instruct; both grabbed a bag each. They left the train onto the station's wooden platform. Passengers scattered towards their families and friends; the sound of content greetings filled the air. Others went about their business and soon enough, the platform was empty.

A little settlement by the name of Valentine was situated in the middle of nowhere amides the wild lands. Amelia took in the unfamiliar surroundings. She traced the bustling town with her eyes, looking at the rugged ground - muddy from the snow that thawed and stomped by animals and people alike. She moved her gaze onto the snow-capped mountains. Nature's sight to behold. Right above, the clouds soared lazily through the sky. The air was crisp and cool while the sun provided the warmth - a spring day so fine.

"Quaint yet charming, isn't?" Mary said, aiming to sound enthusiastic but coming off unconfident. "The smell is a bit much, sheep, I believe, but nothing tragic?"

Amelia hid her natural curiosity and rather offered a dull shrug. That was the only response her mother would receive.

Mary clicked her lips and shook her head in slight irritation, "You are such a wet blanket my child." She used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun while scouting the station for her brother, who was scheduled to meet them.

"Mary, Amelia!" Jamie called out from the other side of the platform.

"Jamie!" Mary exclaimed with a tone of excitement. She nudged Amelia to follow her.

The brother and sister reunited in an embrace.

Amelia kept a distance. She barely recognized Jamie, they weren't close. It had been five years that she last saw her uncle and it was during an unfortunate event, her father's funeral. Jamie was kind enough to support their family through the times of grieving.

"Look at you Amelia, you're all grown up. Turned into a fine young woman," Jamie pointed out. "I recall you dressed in boy's clothing, causing mischief wherever you went," He chuckled, and looked at his sister. "Mary couldn't keep up with you."

"That ain't much different now," Mary added, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Only now I've managed to convince her to wear proper dresses."

Amelia blushed at the unwanted attention to her characteristics and wardrobe. "Good to see you again Uncle." She politely greeted him.

"Call me Jamie, tis' be just fine cause I ain't that old." Jamie sounded almost childish.

It wasn't so obvious that he was a man in his twenties, and he was right, calling him uncle would be awkward. He led the woman along the muddy streets of the town and in the direction of their new rented homestead. "So, a couple of weeks and we headin' down to Saint Denis?" He asked, voice slightly shaky and Amelia quickly picked up on the uncertainty. "Big city and all, I never thought to go that far..."

Mary hooked Jamie's arm and shook it to express the excitement she felt. "I've already written to daddy, he's happy to accommodate us. How great is this Jamie? The whole family back together."

"Father says he's doing well for himself, yes," Jamie added. "I suppose we just have to take his word for it."

"Heavens. Of course, he is!" Mary was full of defence. "Why else would he express his desire for us to move back in."

"You know how I feel about father, I-" Jamie paused, not certain how to express his concern. "I'm just afraid I won't be good enough again; his patronizing ways will get the best of me." His voice cracked, like that of a teenage boy.

"You have nothing to worry about, from his letters I can tell he's a changed man. We can count on him, I can sense it, but we just need to stay together." Mary clung onto that notion that her father's word will be a solid foundation for their new start.

"We have to make our own luck happen," Amelia added, a bit too honest perhaps.

Mary promptly looked at her daughter but ultimately did chose to ignore the comment, turning her focus back to Jamie who was now pointing out the useful establishments in town.

_'Ignorance is bliss mother.'_ Amelia mentally commented. She was feeling slightly apprehensive after hearing Jamie's opinion about her grandfather's character. She herself, only met the man a handful of times and can confirm his arrogance; when he did visit, she recalls him to be quite pretentious - but that was common amongst upperclassmen like himself. His expressions and tone were often snobbish towards her and mother alike. He did adore her father though; they seem to be cut from the same cloth of man who mutually appreciate their status. As a child, she never understood the concept of class, it would take years ahead to notice social class divides and how they alter the way people perceive someone, especially since they lost their wealth. All was left was a decent name - she predicts that will be tarnished soon too.

Valentine was nothing compared to Portland, Oregon where they hailed from previously. The small town offered a few stores, few farms, a hotel and the two biggest necessitates for a thriving town in the middle of nowhere, a saloon and gun shop. The building themselves had a charm to them though, made of sturdy light oak and all looking fairly brand new. The smell of fresh cut wood was pleasant. A humble society in the making, pretty in its simplicity.

Both Amelia and Mary stood out with their clean cotton dresses, like roses among lilies one could tell they were fresh off the wagon from a wealthier city. Most women of Valentine were not that of higher society, the majority seem to be either housewives or working ladies; some tried to compete using fashion, but their style collided with the image of this town; a drunken passing for weary wanderers. Nothing wrong with that though, Amelia made a mental note to reconsider her wardrobe choice soon. After all, they no longer need to pretend to be part of a higher class. That would be a lie, they had no money to their name. The good that came out of this move is that she can finally give up the charade and embrace the nomadic lifestyle. Amelia mentally rejoiced, it was...freeing.

Two men carrying a platform with bricks were passing by, Amelia took out a cigarette from her dress pocket and a pack of matches. She placed the rolled tobacco lightly in her lips. She used the rough building material to strike the match, igniting a flame that was used to light the cigarette. She lifted her head to the man to indicate a 'thanks' motion all while sending a wink their way. They smiled at her charm, one commented something to the other.

"Melia!" Her mother scolded, noticing her daughter smoking. "Save some face and put that away, it's not ladylike!"

"Ma, look around this town, even the dogs smoke here." Mary was less than impressed with that comment, Jamie may have let out a small chuckle.

"Here we are!" Jamie exclaimed, pointing to the small farm just north of the main town road. The sign read Chadwick Farm.


	2. Horse Business

**The second chapter. I have tweaked and added quite a lot to the first (previous) chapter. I highly recommend rereading it for more detailed descriptions.**

**Many thanks to ****Omuyev for the review, I intend for the OC to have challenges in her morals and honor. **

**Enjoy, Brandey XX**

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**Horse Bussiness **

**_Two Months Later_**

Amelia stood in the mirror, twisting her thick hair into a side ponytail. She placed a sun hat on the crown of her head; a wardrobe piece she recently purchases from the store in town. It was an old-style tan brown leather hat with big brims. It was elegant and feminine with a touch of ruggedness. She dressed in a cream button shirt top from Jamie; he wouldn't miss it, had three of the same ones. She placed a short sleeve open vest and paired it with loose dark jeans with three-quarter length armita chaps that could pass for a skirt. The chaps she got from a farmer she worked for a day picking plums in his orchard; he outgrew them, and she happily accepted them as payment. Good leather is always worth money in the market. For now, she can get plenty of use out of them.

She bit her bottom lip as she quietly snuck downstairs. Taking each step of the stairs lightly. She poked her head above the railing of the stairs to glance at the living room, lingering like this for a few seconds. When it seemed that she was in the clear, she pranced on her toes to the bottom of the stairs, heading straight at the front door. She reached out to the door and swung it open to make her escape. She was met with her mother standing there – reaching for the door handle herself.

"'Melia, you startled me dear," Mary exclaimed, placing a hand on her heart. "Where are you off to?" Voice was full of suspicion. She carried a basket filled with bread, water, fruit, and vegetables.

Amelia didn't hesitate to reply, "I'm heading to Mrs. Barlow's house to babysit the twins."

"Don't be lying to me, babysitting dressed like that?" Mary pointed up and down at her daughter, whose clothes gave up her intentions. It wasn't fooling her. A casual Sunday dress would do for housework at the wealthier families of this town. This was not acceptable. She continued, "I don't like you lying to me. Or dressing like that, you look foolish as a woman. You ain't heading for honest work, you're going to play buckaroo again."

"Ma," Amelia whined, shoulders drop in surrender. "Mrs. Barlow pays me thirty cents an hour, you know she's a cheapskate. And I can't stand the twins either."

"Mrs. Barlow gives you a fair wage. As for the kids, it's you who lacks patience!" She raised her voice slightly to express frustration.

Amelia sighed in disappointment; her usual smirk wiped off the face. She turned on her heel to head back upstairs to change.

Guilt began to sink in with Mary. "'Melia?" She stopped her daughter halfway up the stairs. "Take a day off, I'll babysit instead." She reached into the basket to give her daughter a few apples.

Amelia didn't need convincing. She shot up a smile and thanked her mother profoundly before quickly leaving for town.

"Stay safe, darling!" Mary said as she watched her daughter pace away. Perhaps she was lenient with her parenting but seeing that light in the eyes of the girl was everything to her.

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Amelia strolled through the muddy town she will call home for the next few weeks, months – or until mother decides to move them down the road again. Their initial plans to leave Valentine within a few weeks have gone amiss. Mother spoke of Jamie's crazy plan to join some peace group. He left them without even so much as a warning. Just a note on the nightstand; something about being scared of daddy. Amelia scoffed at the idea, she couldn't fathom how someone can just leave like that, especially after promising to stick by them. He gave his word and broke it. _'I pity that boy for his cowardly decision.'_ She had also recently loaned her savings to him - against her own better judgment. It turned out that the money was a donation for the membership to the group, but he failed to mention that then. Now it was highly unlikely that she will see it back.

Irrelevant now, Jamie was good and gone just like her savings.

She was hoping to go down to the local stable to look for a way to earn an extra buck. Their money was limited, and Amelia's arsenal of talent was limited, therefore her options for honest work were narrow. She refused to work as a barmaid, the job would often consist of harassment by man. Not too good with childcare either, impatient – she barely managed herself let alone another tiny being. Manual labour at farms and plantation was ideal, as no one would bother you while working. She could also ride a horse decent, at least she did some years ago and that's where she would try her luck this day.

She approached the large stable in town, it read: Amos Levi Blacksmith & Farrier. She entered the building, knocking on hollow wood to announce her presence. Her eyes adjusting to the darker surrounding of the building.

"Hello," she called out and it echoed the slightest. She pushed her hat back, letting it rest by the neck string.

An elderly man emerged from one of the horse's stalls. He was dressed in working overalls covered in mud. He wiped his hands on a cloth and greeted Amelia with a welcoming smile, moustache lifted upwards.

"Hello young lady, Duke Levi is the name and I manage this here fine stable. Come to look at the horses I have for sale?" He asked curiously.

"Amelia Linton, a pleasure. On the contrary, I wanted to propose a business deal."

Duke expression remained unchanged, slightly confused, he scratched his chin. She continued her inquiry, "I'm good at hailing high-class horses, bring them back to your establishment. Would you be willing to pay for such a service?"

After a moment of silence, the owner produced a response in the form of a chuckled. He must have thought she was joking but realized soon after that it was a serious proposition.

He looked at the girl, height just shy of his - not very tall. Clothes are torn, and between the button shirt and the open vest, it was the pants that stood out. If she wore a skirt, she would look like any other lady in town – not a wrangler of wild horses.

"Well, that sounds all fine and all Miss. Linton but I can't have a woman running around fetching me horses for sale." He said hastily, waving a hand to dismiss her. "It would be a scandal if the folks found out." He turned to get back to his work.

Amelia on the other didn't want to give up. She followed behind him. "Give me a chance Sir." She exclaimed, trying her hardest to convince the man. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and she was desperate for money.

He shook his head once more from side to side to indicate a negative answer.

"You have nothing to lose, Mr. Levi." She pressed on.

The stable owner contemplated the idea once more. Finally, he said, "Alright then girl, do as you wish and if actually bring me some of them high-class horses, then we'll talk funds for livestock." He motions 'money' with his fingertips.

"One more thing though, Sir." She held up her finger, pitching her next inquiry. "I hail horse with a lasso. I got the lasso but will need a horse." She grinned cheekily.

"I'm afraid that's out of the question. I can sell you a horse and that's about that."

"I can assure you the profit will outweigh the risk."

Now it was his turn to get annoyed. "You want me to give you one of my horses so you can run off towards the horizon, and I presume I will never see you again?"

Amelia stood her ground. "I'm no crook but a woman of my word!"

Duke laughed at that. "I admire your sand, but I believe you will find I am not prepared to lose a horse, this business feeds me and my family."

"You sir, barely have enough horses for sale to make it to the end of next month. I've been in this town for a good few days and I've seen the same horses in and out of the stable. I know good ponies. Dare I say I am not impressed with the selection and neither would any serious buyer."

Duke's face turned a hue of red. "This is preposterous. You are an unnatural child coming to me for a favour and insulting my animals. I don't require your sale or assistance to run this here stable!"

"Then you will offer me nothing?"

"Nothing except what is yours now or what you can sell me. You are a child and I cannot make an agreement with you. You are not accountable."

"What about a deposit?" She asked. Duke raised an eyebrow, slight interest shown, and she decided to continue, "I'll leave money with you, half of a price for the horse and nothing else but my word."

He paused, his patience wearing thin. This was a foolish proposition to accept. On the other hand, new horses were hard to obtain these days, and willing cowboys don't show up any more looking for a quick buck for a nag. "I have not yet seen the color of your money." He added, still not completely comfortable with the idea.

"Is three dollars and fifty cents alright?" It was all the money she had left.

He grumbled something under his breath before finally saying, "Will just 'bout do."

She reached into her pocket to take out two crumpled bills and a few cents in hand. She slammed the money on the table, tossing two more pennies she found in her other pocket.

The stable owner kept his distance, looking at Amelia in the eyes and at the money on the table. He sighed in defeat, very tired of this exchange between them. He collected the money and placed it in a satchel. Amelia felt she was getting her way once more, and the corner of her lip lifted in content. She extended a hand towards him and the owner shook it firmly.

"Bring me that high-quality horse breed and my own nag back." He pulled her in and pointed at her face in a threatening manner. "For your own sake, you will come back, child."

"Deal," she reassured.

Duke soon emerged with an American Paint on lead. It was a basic breed of horses, common to find in the area. A beauty, nonetheless; Its coat was pinto with a spotted pattern of white and brown. She assumed its mane and tail were white, but so dirty and in need of brushing it was difficult to tell. Big brown eyes full of patient nature looked at the new rider.

Amelia patted the horse; dust rose from its coat. She began to saddle up, she fed the bridle and tossed the reins. The blanket she placed on the back and her small arms lifted the saddle, the familiar weight, she tossed it over and onto the animals back. Secured by the girth, she tightened the straps and adjusted the stirrups to her level. The equipment was old, the saddle was of poor quality too, worn up and all. Nonetheless, it would only affect her comfort if she saddled up properly.

When she finished, Duke approached the horse; grabbing the reins near the mouth as he led the animal out of the barn. Amelia followed close by.

"He's a good one, trained and tamed but young a tad foolish at times. Will do the job." Duke stated. The horse snarled as if he knew the comment was about him.

Amelia nodded in agreement. She grabbed the saddle with both hands, foot in the stirrup. Three hops it took to mount the horse. She sat tall and proud on this nag, rolled the sleeves of her blouse up, and grabbed the rein.

"Do a few circles, let me see you ride." He motioned it with his hands before sitting down on the pile of wood near the stable entrance. He ignited a match against his boot to light a cigarette, placed it in his mouth, and took a drag.

She nudged the horse's side and pushed her hips forward. The animal did nothing.

"He don't even feel that you're telling him to do somethin'." Duke took another puff from the cigarette. "Nudge him with a bit more force otherwise you might as well be a horsefly that landed on his back."

She did as he instructed, and the horse began to walk. He was frisky with a new person handling him but not hysterical. Duke watched carefully as she handled the horse. He observed her technique, decided if she was a novice or someone with experience and whether he could let her go on the open road. He had to make sure she would not kill herself, or more importantly, his horse.

"What's his name?" She asked while cueing the horse to turn, it obliged.

Duke threw the cigarette and crossed his arms. "Doesn't have one."

Amelia thought for a name for her new temporary companion. "Gin." She declared, patting the horse.

"Fine name. Come now, pick it up there with that pony."

"Yup." She said quietly under her breath. "Here we go." She tapped her heels into its side, and he surprised her by responding to the cue almost immediately; coming down hard with his forelegs stiff. Amelia would have fallen if it wasn't for the quick reaction of grabbing the saddle horn.

Duke laughed. "He don't know what to make of an unsure rider like you."

"I'll get there, it's been a while."

"Sure. Bring him back before sundown along with any others you manage to catch." He waved at her dismissively to get going as he walked back into the stable.

"Alright, then mighty Gin, let's hail some fine horses." Amelia turned in the direction of the town's exit and squeezed her boots, the cue got the horse into a gallop.


	3. She Used to Love Me A Lot

**She Used to Love Me A Lot**

Back at Chadwick farm, Mary was going about her everyday chores. She did the laundry, folding the freshly dried clothes. She pulls out a white cotton shirt and recognizes that it belongs to her brother, Jamie.

She did not understand Jamie's rash decision. They've been corresponding for months prior. He wrote about life has not gone great, his lack of employable skills, and not being able to secure a job for longer than a couple of weeks. They agreed to reunite the family in hopes of strength in unity. But Jamie crumbled under the stress of seeing daddy again, opting to join the mad cult of Chelonians. The decision impacted her greatly, it was unforeseen, and she could do little to stop him. How could she not have seen the signs that it was becoming overwhelming for Jamie?

She had to write to daddy promptly, seeking advice from the only male figure left to judge the situation. He replied within a week, expressing his sorrow and disappointment. This is what Mr. Gillis wrote: "Needless to say, I am not shocked at the news. I have lost hope that Jamie will amount to anything in this life. It breaks my heart to see him unable to reach the full potential of becoming the man I always wanted him to be."

She gripped the shirt up to her chest, feeling tears rolling down her cheeks. Everything seemed hopeless lately. All she had left in this world was her family. Jamie and Amelia.

She felt guilty for not being able to provide a steady home for her child. The moves have impacted their relationship greatly. Amelia had become more distant with her over time.

_'Maybe she's just trying to find her way in this world.'_ Mary rationalized the strained relation.

She felt hopeless, and in the midst of this moment of weakness, she wrote to her past partner, Arthur Morgan. She overheard a couple of his lady associates in town just the other day. They spoke of a man that sounded awfully like her past love. She figured you can't live life completely reserved. You've got to throw caution to the wind every now and then. But the letters she wrote were sent a while ago, and so far, Arthur had not responded nor visited. She sighed loudly, wondering if he would at all.

She closed her eyes and remembered her youthful years when she was just eighteen. She still could imagine it like it happened just yesterday. She would wait on the porch for her cowboy. Excitement would overwhelm her each time when she heard the rumble of horse's hooves in the distance, signaling the approaching Arthur. Can it be that it was so simple back then? She would run to him, right into his sturdy strong arms. His arms were her safety, and embrace felt like heaven. His lips would kiss away any worry.

She quickly learned that his line of work was less than honest - she did not falter but rather tried to engage in his world just as he did in hers. Mary begged each time for Arthur not to leave. Just as often as they would meet, they would say goodbye often too. He would disappear for weeks at a time.

But against all better judgment and protest from her father, eventually her mother too, they managed to have a wonderful year together.

The word around town had been that Mary was keeping bad company with a drifter. Such a shame to the Gillis name. Men would discuss the issue with her father at the saloon. They could not fathom the idea of how Mr. Gillis would let his sweet daughter affiliate herself with the lows of society. Housewives would gossip too, at social clubs. They would discuss her foolish romance with a man who had no formal education and nothing to his name - so they've heard. The women were ruthless, often they would add onto the truth with lies to spice up the afternoon tea chatter.

No one accepted their courtship, not even Arthur's friends. The people he called family, they assumed she poisoned his mind with ideas of a better life that did not exist. At least not beyond their _gang. _That Dutch Van der Linde too. Oh, how she could still picture that man well even after all those years. He stood like the patriarch above them all. Arthur listened to the man without question. He considered him to be like a father-figure of some sort. They labeled her too _proper_ for Arthur's standards.

Things between Arthur and Mary soon became difficult; her social pressure became too much, his to his associates became the priority.

Two young fools in love were torn apart.

Mary snapped out of the memory – seeing tears stain the laundry below. _'A story like a tired plot from a dime novel.'_ That was a long time ago, surely, they were both different people now. Feelings have passed. She felt foolish for reminiscing on such things in a time where her focus needs to be elsewhere.

"Mrs. Linton!" Olga, the house owner, called for her from downstairs, "A caller for you."

_'Could that be him?'_ She thought over a mixture of nervousness and excitement that overwhelmed her, making it impossible to move. Maybe certain feelings never pass. Mary promptly wiped the tears away, straightening her blouse and skirt. One last glance in the mirror, turning from side to side, and she headed downstairs.

Olga held a gun in her hand, with a fabricated facial expression she motioned at the door. "He looks -" the elder woman searched for the right words to describe the man on the other side of the door. "Rough, I hope you know what you're doing."

Mary smiled, remembering the similar words were used by her mother when she first met Arthur. "Yes, I do ma'am," she answered back quietly.

Mary opened the door cautiously and slid outside, followed by shutting the door right behind her to give them privacy. There, on the porch stood the man she hadn't seen for so long, holding his hat low like a gentleman. He was rugged as usual but in that underlying handsome way – at least Mary would say so. His head was full of thick, golden-brown hair parted to both sides, unevenly. His face had the familiar stubble and that square jawline stood out to highlight his features even more.

His expression was that of a man that looked slightly nervous, soft almost upon seeing her. Hazy eyes of emerald green looked at her with a distant kindness in them. He wore dark trousers held by black leather suspenders, a crimson button-up shirt with two buttons undone by the collar, sleeves rolled up. The all too familiar iron on his hip, sitting casually in the holster loosely around his waist.

With that familiar twang in her words, one he remembered so fondly, he heard her say his name.

"Hello, Arthur."


	4. The Tricky Art of Wrangling

**The Tricky Art of Wrangling**

"Lo and behold," Amelia whispered to herself.

Up ahead and down the mountain near the forest, a herd of horses was feeding by the river. Amelia assessed the surroundings and the horses down below. She noticed that the location was indeed in her favour. If she were to chase the herd west, they would go into a narrow path between the trees. She fixed the noose on the lasso and looped it around her hand, once, twice, taking a few deep breaths to calm and ensure full focus. She tapped the horse to bring it to a steady trot toward the wild horses. When the distance was closing, she began to repeatedly nudge the horse to start the gallop. She attempted to keep a balance, but Gin's gallop was hasty while his gait bouncy – or perhaps it was she who forgot how to handle herself atop a horse.

The herd almost immediately pick up on the nearing Amelia.

She caught up with them, riding side to side with one. She swung the lasso mid-air in circles while catching a rhythm, throwing it at the neck of one of the horses. "Got you!"

The caught horse galloped to the left at the fork in the road while the rest of the herd ran in the opposite direction towards the open field. Amelia jumped from Gin onto the wild horse, and almost immediately regretted it. Too rash of a decision. The wild horse kicked back and forth, causing her to bite her tongue.

She grabbed a tighter hold of the lasso, more near the neck. Using her other hand, she grabbed a handful of the horse's mane. But despite the effort, the horse threw her. She fell on her back onto the ground with a loud thud; the fall knocking the air out of her lungs.

But she didn't give in, managing to keep a tight hold on the lasso. The wild horse bolted, dragging her through the ground. She held onto the rope with two hands, noticing Gin who was following close behind the mess she was in. She whistled at her horse to keep following her, "Good boy, we got this one!"

Amelia twisted herself to try to get onto her front. As soon as she managed to turn her body, she collided with the tree with reasonable force. The horse slowed down but tried to drag her on. She hooked her arm tightly around the tree while maintaining a holding on the lasso. She stared at the animal, the horse did the same back at her; rearing and sneering in disagreement. A beautiful grey quarter horse, a stallion too, it would not go down without a fight.

She spat to the side to rid the mouth of the bloody taste. "You or me buddy, I'm not letting go." She said, while slowly get up, maintaining a grip on the lasso. A good half an hour passed, and they were still in the same position – horse on the lasso while Amelia held onto the tree for support. Her arms were tired, her feet dug into the ground for support. The rope rubbed her hands something fierce, and she mentally scolded herself for forgetting to bring riding gloves.

Patiently, she spoke to the horse, doing the best she could in calming it down. She let go of the tree and began to near closer to the animal. He reared at the advance. "Whoa, it's alright just give me a chance I won't hurt you." She took a few more steps and repeated the calming words towards the stallion. Eventually, she was able to close the distance between them with a hand to the neck and firm pat.

"There, there, I won't hurt ya." The horse did not pitch again but neither did he move forward. His body was leaning away from her showing much hesitance.

Eventually, she was able to gain enough trust from the horse to lead him behind her. Patting it so it becomes more accustomed to the human touch, she fed it an apple and he accepted it. They walked a few circles around the area.

"Oi!" she called out to get Gin's attention; his ears pricked up. The horse walked towards her and she mounted him. With the stallion on the lasso, she tied the rope around the saddle horn. They trotted towards the direction of the open plains and back West towards town.

She felt a presence following her for a few minutes. Worried that it might be trouble, she twisted her body to look back. There, stood a yearling horse, much younger and smaller than the two that were with her. Similar coat and breed to the stallion.

She didn't want to be greedy and would rather let the little one roam free. "Get goin' boy!" she scolded the lone horse to run off, waving a hand at it. She nudged Gin to go once more, but now her captured horses reread, clearly not wanting to follow without the yearling. This made Gin uncomfortable too, and he began to protest by walking stiffly back and forth. She now had two uneasy large animals to deal with, all equipped with their own stubborn streak. She pulled back on Gin's reins, with a tighter hold on the horse, she pressed her legs to its side. "Whoa boy, calm down, calm down, stop!"

Amelia managed to get Gin attention, he snorted and pulled his leg back to show discontent, but he was listening once more. At least one horse was under control. She looked up at the sky and took a deep breath to regain some patience. The caught stallion was kicking back and forth, with the lasso around its neck, she undid the rope from the saddle horn and slid down from Gin. She approached the horse, her hands held up in defense she began talking softly to the animal, calming him down with soothing words. She turned her head to look back. The little lone horse stood behind, watching the commotion between her and the horses. "Yea, you did this little troublemaker." She said sarcastically. The caught stallion finally allowed Amelia to approach him, she patted its neck while speaking to it how good he is to have listened again.

She mounted Gin and tied the lasso around the saddle horn once more, this time closer to her horse for more control in case of another outburst were to happen from either of the horses. She cued Gin to turn and move along with the stallion close behind.

She twisted her body to looked back. The yearling following them right behind in a steady trot. She halted the horses once more and the little one stopped too. "I said, get!"

But the horse just looked at her, not moving from its spot.

_'Must be your daddy or your brother…your herd or somethin'.' _She mentally reasoned how a wild horse is so willing to follow her. She accepted that the little one was not giving up and without further ado, Amelia rod back to town with all three horses.


	5. Wild East

**Next chapter I intend for the story to follow the events of red dead redemption through the game as they were. The only change I've allowed myself to make was to Mary and Jamie leaving straight after Arthur brings Jamie back. Minor change and the story will commence to normal game scrip afterward. Read on to see how it turns out and please review to let me know if you enjoy it so far.**

**Brandey XX**

* * *

**Wild East**

Mary felt awfully vulnerable after asking Arthur for the favour of retrieving Jamie from the mad Chelonians. But like many times before, Arthur delivered his promise and in his own way, he found Jamie and convince him to return. Of course, it wasn't as smooth as one would imagine; the timid Jamie pulled a gun on Arthur in a threatening manner! Mary turned away in embarrassment when she heard the story. She profoundly apologized for her brother's desperate behaviour. Arthur said it was not a big deal and that he took care of it by showing the true talent of a gunslinger and shot the gun straight out of Jamie's hand.

Now the pair was standing on the porch while Jamie recovered from the day's events; ever so ashamed to have caused so much trouble.

Mary laughed at a story Arthur was recalling from their youth. He was on about their first trip together to the forest, and how their berry picking for pie turned into a mess when they encountered a practically sly raccoon that ate all their fruits. Arthur tried chasing the pesky rodent, but it ended with him falling into nettle. Mary had to patch him then and there with ointment.

"Yea, I never forget that awful stingy plant, I avoid it like hellfire to this day," Arthur said between smiles, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

When the laughter died down, the pair stood awkwardly at the porch. The evening was beautiful and warm, in early May the days were long. The sun hadn't set just yet but it was low enough to display beautiful hues of orange, purple, and blues onto the land. Arthur held Mary in his gaze; all the while not knowing how to talk to her. It's been far too long since they last saw each other, and all just seemed so foreign. For a moment they listened to the stridulating concert of the crickets.

To fill in the silence, Mary started talking about her family. She told him about Amelia for the first time.

"A daughter? You've done great Mary, I bet you're a proud mama." He lowered his head down, his hat casting his face into a shadow to hide the inkling of regret over his own life. It was probably the sins that stained his soul that prevented him from having a family of his own.

She also told him the plans she had regarding the move towards Saint Denis to her father's home. Arthur scoffed at the mention of her daddy, and at the idea of a better life with that man in it.

"Oh, don't be like that Arthur, even the most rotten man by society's standard has a grain of good in 'em." She teased, nudging his stocky arm.

Arthur's lip turned into a lazy smile. "You were always a believer in the better of man, devil's advocate."

"Is that what you think I was to you?" She teased the past.

"Whoa now, I have a way with words that gets me out of a mess perfectly fine." Arthur cleared his throat, not wanting to reminisce the past too much, nor be compared to Mary's father; even jokingly it was demeaning. He changed the subject, "That daughter of yours, how is she handling this transition, better than Jamie?"

"In her own way she is, but I wouldn't say better." Mary pondered for a second, "I feel awful for asking you for the help today and I want to repay you."

Arthur held up a hand to motion her to stop the nonsense, "I was only joking when I said you owe me." His voice frayed just the slightest, embarrassed that he said that earlier. She looked at him wondering how to read the man after so many years. Was he agreeing to help because of sentiments towards their past? Or was it because his character would not allow a woman to fall into despair. He turned his gaze away from her, even as a grown man he couldn't keep his sights on her too long before faltering.

"Yes, you're a perfect gentleman but still I feel I want to do something for you." Mary thought for a second as he allowed himself to entertain the idea of someone returning the favor for him. "Maybe you would like to join us for dinner?" Maybe you could tell Amelia about one of your adventures, she gets real excited about such stories" Mary trailed off and looked at Arthur's face, studying his expression and deciding whether it was okay for her to invite him into her life like this once more.

"I'll, uhh…Nothing too excited about the low end of society." He himself was a bit puzzled by the invitation, not sure if he should accept. "But I'm sure you give her plenty of reasons why she shouldn't romanticize this lifestyle o' mine," He looked down at his boots, not answering the request just yet.

"I give her a reason every day, she don't seem to want to listen, she thinks it's fascinating and freeing." Mary gesticulated at the open horizon, repeating her daughter's words of argument.

"That's very poetic and delusional all at the same time." Arthur laughed at the irony of views between mother and daughter. "Alright then." He nodded. "I'll be there Mary; your cooking was always my weakness."

"Oh Arthur, how exciting, shall we say tomorrow at five in the afternoon?"

He nodded in agreement and mounted his horse. He tipped his hat to her.

"My lady." And with those charming words, he rode off out of Valentine and towards his camp.

* * *

Amelia arrived in Valentine atop of Gin – proud of the day's work she had a smile painted across the face. She stopped near the gates of the barn. The two horses followed behind, the stallion on a lead while the yearling stayed near it. The stallion would take work for it to be tamed, but his character seems to be one that is willing to work alongside a human. He'll make great companions to a future buyer.

The barn illuminated in orange with the natural light of the setting sun that peeked through the planks.

"Hello, Mr. Levi? I'm back just like promised." She called out to the owner.

No response.

Something seemed off about this silence, the horses in the stables seemed nervous too.

"Why hello there, little lady." A husky voice answered, definitely not one that belonged to the elderly owner. A tall, raggedy man emerged from behind the shadow of the stalls. He fashioned himself in mainly black and whites - with a green bandana around his neck. He was very imposing, unkept with a menacing grin painted across his face. Gun in hand, he pointed it straight at Amelia. She was startled, eyes wide and unsure of the next move.

Two more men with similar features came out from hiding and stood on either side of her horse. They all must have thought she was the law when they heard the multiple hooves thud outside. They hid all around the stable, now crawling out like roaches.

Gin snarled and became uneasy with their presence so close to them, he could sense danger. The stallion also started rearing back in protest, neighed loudly at the strangers.

"Calm them beast before I shoot one!" The men on the left shouted while pushing the horse's face away which only served to increase the animal's agitation.

She promptly hushed the horses, afraid for their fate if they keep behaving like this. She grabbed Gin's reins and pulling them back. "Stop, boy, I got you!" She grabbed the lasso attached to the stallion and pulled him closer. "Give them some room!" She pleaded, voice loud and defensive over the cruel treatment of the animals. That was a mistake.

The man didn't take kindly to her giving him orders. "Sitting all tall and proud over us, thinking you can give orders?" He responded by pulling Amelia off the saddle and onto the ground. She fell hard on the stable's concrete ground, luckily the pavement was covered in patches of hay that cushioned the fall. "Say that again from this height there!" He shouted, towering over her body.

"What do you have here for me?" The first man said, clearly the leader of the bunch as the other two made way for him to walk around. He studied the horses as he pointed a gun in her direction. "A fine stallion, Colm will be pleased with this unruly bastard. Take the patchy one too, for work, and the young one we can sell for meat."

"No, you bastards!" Amelia protested, propping herself up of the ground. As she stood up, she was met with the pistol's barrel right to her forehead. The cool metal served a reminder that she had said too much. She slowly raised her hands up in surrender, her lips fixed in a tight line showing much frustration. They cackled at her attempt of defense.

She was forced to give up the horses with no fight. Unarmed, any form of resistance would most likely end badly on her side. She walked out of the barn. The group of bad men rode off northbound, with all of the horses from the barn, including her recent companion, Gin. Unfair didn't even begin to explain it. All was much too common out here; one can work all day just to have it swept away by a gun swinging bully.

"Hey there, Amelia was it!" A more familiar voice called out. She turned around, noticing the stable owner sitting nearby with his friends by the side of the building.

"Mr. Levi?" She was confused by their lack of involvement in the commotion. "We should alert the sheriff!"

Duke dismissed the idea with a lazy hand wave. "No point in that, too many bad men to fight, too little men willing to go up against them."

He got up from where he was sitting to come and greet her. He extended his hand and she shook it. He also offered a cigarette to her - she accepted that too, nodding in gratitude while grabbing the rolled tobacco, the fire that he lit from a match.

"Those were fine horses I saw, kept your word and all." He trailed off, waiting for her to join in the conversation. When she didn't he added, "I didn't get to you in time to warn you off about them boys in there though."

Still obviously shaken by the encounter. She took a long drag of the tobacco. Her body was fidgety, eyes were watery with a tight knot in her throat - she did all she could to conceal the distress.

"O'Driscoll boys." He stated, voice like venom when he said the gang's name. "They come around once a fortnight, take what I got, leave nothing. I don't even argue it no more."

"Where do they take the animals?" She asked, eyes fixated at the distance. They were good and gone now, nothing but empty horizon line and dust left behind the thieves.

"To some shady livestock operation up in Cumberland Forest," Duke shook his head as he took a drag of the cigarette. "Not a day goes by without a report of a farmer bludgeoned or a blameless traveller robbed and killed by them lot. I'm sorry they did you dirty too but do consider yourself lucky to have come out alive."

"I'm alright. It's not the first time I fell victim to men who think they own the world just 'cause they can swing a gun."

"Ain't that the truth, nothing but a bunch of cowards." Mr. Levi started to dig in his pocket. He took out the two crumpled bills and a few cents and equivalent to three dollars fifty-two cents. "Here." He extended his hand. "Your deposit. Have a drink and forget it."

She accepted the money and returned it to her pocket. She threw her cigarette on the ground and stomped it, taking one last look at the horizon before tipping her hat to the owner as they parted ways.

* * *

She made the walk back up to Chadwick farm in no particular haste. Muscle achy from riding all day, hands are worn from the lasso, body beat up by the numerous falls. _'What a goddamn mess today was.'_ The sun had fully set by now, and the town lit up from the artificial light from lanterns all around as a man went around to ignite the gas lamps. In the bigger cities, it was electric for a while now. She assumed it be a bit primitive for the time, but it sure was nice to see it done this way too. As she neared the building, she noticed a horse standing nearby the house. She approached the animal and recognized it immediately. "Now where did you come from?" He belongs to Jamie. She patted the horse and hitched him to a nearby post.

She entered the house, immediately noticing mother along with Jamie in the dining room. They sat near each other at the table. The two must have been having a heartfelt conversation; Jamie's head hung low while Mary had her arm around and resting on his shoulder.

"You're back, Gillis." Amelia pointed out, rather coldly but with a hint of surprise in her voice. He lifted his head to look at her.

Mary took her arm off from Jamie's shoulder and approached Amelia hastily, giving her a tight hug. "You're here darlin', we're finally all back together." She noted the state her daughter was in, all bruised up and bloody from the falls and hits she experienced. "Christ, what happened to you?"

"It's nothing, just a bad fall during a job." Amelia patted her mother's back and peeled away from the hug. "Did you forget to hitch Flake?" She asked, referring to Jamie's horse.

"Flake? I thought he ran off for good," Jamie sounded surprised at the mention. "I scared him off earlier with a shot from my pistol."

"Yea, he's back." She hung her hat on the rack. "Horses stray but always find their way back home."

Amelia headed upstairs and into the rented room she shared with mother. She sat on her bed and looked down at her hands – rough and dirty from the day's work. She sighed at today's fruitless encounter. She grabbed a basin filled with cool water and a cloth that was nearby. She dipped the material in water, and tapped her swollen nose, hissing in pain when it made contact with skin.

Mary knocked on the doorframe, "How was your day 'Melia?"

"Not the best, Ma'."

"Could you tell me what happened to your face?"

"No, please don't concern yourself with it." Amelia's voice was harsh, demanding to not push the subject further.

"Well come, I'll brush your hair, you look like a tumbleweed that rolled into the house. "

Amelia smiled just the slightest and sat in front of the dressing table. She passed Mary the hairbrush.

Mary undid the braid and tugged at Amelia's messy, caramel brown hair. Her daughter's hair was lighter than hers from all the sun that touched her on her journeys out in the prairie. Once brushed, the hair regained its natural curl and softened. She let it fall down to her back.

"You know if there is anything troubling you, just talk to me 'Melia." Mary tried once more, hoping to find some common ground with her daughter.

Amelia grunted under her breath._ 'This constant nomadic lifestyle, lack of money, forgiving Jamie for running off on us like it was nothing. Not enough time in the day to talk about what's bothering me'_ Amelia bit her lip, holding back. "Nothing is troubling me, Ma."

Mary didn't push the topic further – instead, she changed the subject. "I've invited a guest," she spoke casually while brushing her hair. "It'll be nice for you to be present at the dinner table tomorrow."

"Oh yeah?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. Mary could see the reaction in the mirror's reflection, it was curiosity. Not often do they have outside guests.

"The man who helped bring Jamie back." She pondered for a moment about how much she should reveal about her past flame. "An old friend."

"You want the black sheep of the family at the dinner table?" She chuckled.

"Stop it," Mary playfully nudged her daughter. She placed the hairbrush back at the table and headed towards the room's exit, "I'd love for you to be there, 'Melia."

Amelia sighed, "I'll be there."


	6. Bravado

**Bravado**

The sun was low, barely touching the line of the horizon as the first light illuminated the land. The hues were that of purple and peach-orange. Mist hung low near the grass. Crickets were stridulating all around. Birds were chirping their morning song.

The temperature was cool, and the air felt dewy. Amelia gripped the blanket tighter around herself. She stood on the porch; elbows rested against the rails as she admired the mountains in the distance. She gazed at the rock formations sprawled around, towering over the area – they were tranquil. She wondered what she would find if she were to climb the tallest mountain ahead. The animals that lived atop such heights must be enduring ones. The view from there must be even more mesmerizing than from the bottom.

As of lately, she'd been waking up in the early hours to watch the scenery, it eased her mind. The constant transitions between towns coupled with the recent strings of unfortunate events made the mind very wary. Then she remembered the smug look of the man's faces from the previous day where her luck ran low once more. Common thieves ran off with her hard day's work and she was left hopeless once more.

In moments of weakness, one tends to make a rash decision. A head full of schemes, the young woman drew up a plan in her head. It was not about revenge – it was a lesson for the man who cowered behind a gun. Outsmarting them would be tricky, but if handled correctly – she could retrieve what they stole from her.

Flake, Jamie's trusty steed, grazed on the green cloves and grass nearby. She approached the horse to pat it. He was a gentle animal, with a shy demeanour and no mean streak - just like his owner.

Jamie walked out on the porch. He stretched his arms and yawned, enjoying the fresh morning air. He smacked his lips lazily and blinked with sleepy eyes. He noticed Amelia by Flake. "Up bright and early today?" He asked.

"Can't sleep, Gillis." She retorted back while brushing the horse, not giving him full attention.

"Thanks for taking care of Flake there." He pointed. Since his return, Amelia has been very short with him – a passive-aggressive streak that he previously did not notice in her.

"Yea, it's alright." She kept on brushing the animal, "I'm going to need to borrow him today."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yea, and that gun of yours." She requested firmly, turning her head and looking straight into his eyes.

Jamie's smile dropped. "Where are you off to?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Mary has a guest coming for dinner tonight, she wants us there."

"Don't be acting like it's the most important thing in the world." Amelia placed the blanket and saddle on top of the horse, inserting the bridle into its mouth and tossed the reins over.

"It's important to my sister, why you got to let her down like this?"

"Ain't no one letting anyone down - I'll be back before dinner." She mounted the horse.

Jamie grabbed Flake's reins right near the mouth to stop the two. "Just tell me where you're off to exactly, don't be so inconspicuous." He lowered his tone to a softer one, "It's rough out there."

"I am well aware, of that." Amelia tugged at the reins, ripping them out of Jamie's hand. "That's why I'll be needing that revolver."

"You don't even know how to shoot proper." He hissed.

"I know how to reload and aim, that's all the skill I need."

He shook his head in disagreement but complied with her request. He went inside the house and soon emerged with the colt. "It's loaded, I got an extra pack of lead here." He extended it towards her but held it back as soon as she reached for it. "Only, if you tell me what's this about."

Amelia sighed impatiently. "Unfinished business. Some local gang of hooligans by the name of O'Driscoll robbed me of a few horses and a day's wage." She propped her head straight up and proud, "I'm just going to take back what's mine."

"Horses? From a gang?! Gosh, that won't end well. You ain't tough like that." He spoke hastily, stuttering in between with a worried tone.

She didn't listen to his reasoning, but rather snatched the revolver from his hands. "They're up somewhere in Cumberland Forest – As I said, I'll be back before dinner."

"You don't gotta do this-"

"Jamie, spare me."

"If you're not back before sundown-"

She ignored his last words and placed heel to rib, cueing Flake to turn and ride out of Chadwick Farm, galloping up North.

"You're a fool, Amelia Linton, chasing money like it's the only thing that matters." It'll get you killed; I'll tell you that much!" Jamie shouted the last bit, unsure if Amelia even heard.

* * *

It was later that afternoon that Arthur sat in the barber's chair in the saloon in Valentine. He moved his cheeks to look at one side, and then the other. Pressing his hand on the freshly shaved area.

He was preparing for the dinner invitation at Mary's humble rented homestead. He wore his finest shirt, buttoned to the top. Polished his boots and wore the best jeans he owned. He shined himself up like a new penny. Oh, that woman had him in the palm of her hands, and she didn't even know it. He'd jump for her and only would ask how high. In a way, he felt foolish for letting someone have such an effect on him. But Mary Linton, gosh she drove him crazy. Sweet Mary, after all those years, he was still stunned by her. Pretty as a rose she was, and she pricked him good.

The barber came back around, not hesitant to start working on Arthur's hair. "Ah, Sir, I've managed to find some of that hair pomade." He ran his fingers with the viscus hair product, pushing the hair back. "All done and ready to hit the town, you are."

"Thank you, looks good." Arthur paid the man and headed towards the saloon's exit. He rode atop of his large mustang, who he also groomed and clean. The horse's chestnut coat shined in the sun, his dark tail and mane were brushed and swayed with every move.

The horse's hooves clip-clopped through the mud, coming to a stop at the property's entrance. An elderly ranch hand tended the sheep at the front. He noticed Arthur right away, propped himself up and spat to one side. "Can I help you?" His voice filled with hostility.

Arthur dismounted the horses to not intimidate the man working at the property. "I'm here to see Mrs. Linton," He could feel the apprehensiveness in the man's stiff posture. Arthur wasn't welcomed. Especially that Mary was clearly still a Mrs in the man's ears. It was frowned upon to call up a married lady.

"Go on right through, _cowboy_." He led Arthur inside the house.

Behind closed doors, tensions were high between Mary and Jamie. The food was on the stove, spilling out of the pot. The lid bounced from the pressure of the boiling water

Mary sighed loudly, rubbing her temple. "I'll ask once more, and I know you know. Where did she ride off to?" Voice slightly louder than acceptable. She was growing in worry, face red from frustration. When Amelia did not show for the better half of the afternoon, Mary began to question her brother.

He finally confessed. "Cumberland Forest, something about getting horses back from a group by the name of O'Conoll's, or perhaps it was O'Ferall's..."

Mary gasped. "Lord almighty, what is that girl gotten herself into."

Arthur cleared his throat. He stood at the edge of the room, unnoticed until now. Mary's face grew a darker shade of red, this time in embarrassment. She hastily wiped her hands on the apron and straightened herself up. "Hello Arthur, you're early." She said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Jamie just looked down. This family was in the right to be considered unlucky. To the point where Arthur almost felt sorry for them. "O'Driscoll's...Yea, I know them boys." He said frankly.

"Those are the ones!" Jamie proclaimed loudly but soon turned his head away again.

Mary's eyes jolted from left to right and finally back down at the ground. She didn't dare ask for another favour.

"I'll take a look around the area, I know it a bit." He tugged at his belt, forgetting that his gun was absent; he felt he did not need it here, but he always has one in the saddle. He straightened his posture. "You just worry about that food Mary; I'll be back in no time."

'What a true gentleman.' Mary felt foolish but she nodded and wiped away a tear. Another favour and she felt ever so grateful for his presence in her life. Arthur left quickly, back upon his horse heading North.

Arthur's horse galloped across the uneven landscape of the Cumberland forest. The dense vegetation opened up to a field from which he was able to gain a vantage point. He opened his satchel and pulled out a pair of binoculars. He scouted the area and from far ahead, he noticed the cabin and the familiar boys from the O'Driscoll gang.

'The few of them scoundrels that were still left.' He chuckled, remembering his run-in with the gang.

A few days ago, Arthur rode in the same area alongside his gang members, Bill and John. They dragged along a captured informative, an O'Driscoll boy by the name of Kieran. The boy wouldn't give up the location at first. Something about being scared for his life. He profoundly proclaimed to not be faithful to the enemy gang, but Arthur didn't trust him. After a few threats and Bill putting a pair of scorching gelding thongs to Kieran's private parts, the boy squealed the exact location of the O'Driscoll's hideout.

Arthur and the boys executed most of the gang right there and then.

The O'Driscoll gang was smart enough to not make camp in the same location. Although Arthur speculated that they would occupy the perimeters of the same area soon enough. They had strength in numbers in New Hanover, taking over areas like a bad plague. He scanned the area with the binoculars, stopping at the sights of a homestead. He was right. There they were, just Southeast of Six Point Cabin. A place by the name of Firewood Rise. On that property, a house with a barn sat in the middle of a meadow. Their new location for what he could be assumed was livestock exchange. He saw cattle and horses around the property. They stole livestock from all over the state, gathered it, and sold it.

Good business for the outlaws. There is always a farmer who is willing to buy livestock for a cheaper price without asking about the origin of the animal.

He ran a hand through his freshly cut hair, laid with pomade. "I got all dressed up for them O'Driscoll boys." He mocked his efforts.


	7. A Good Man

**A Good Man**

Amelia's plan went rouge very quick. She was captured sneaking around the barn by a few of the O'Driscoll's boys. They dragged her to the middle of the property. There was no sparing her from being manhandled by the gang.

While they taunted and tugged at her clothes, the leader of the bunch told them to hold off their desire to humiliate her. "Hang her up reverse in the bull ring." He shouted in a distinctive Irish accent to the bunch, "Yah try to steal from the O'Driscoll's, we'll make you pay proper!"

The men promptly obliged. It was a cruel form of torture; They strapped her ankles and pulled her up to a post. Her wrists were tied behind her back. They hung her upside-down.

She twisted her head from side to side, keeping her captors in vision. She caught the attention of an enormous bull being led to the enclosure. Inside the fenced mud ring, the bull began to run circles. The animal was showing its agitation by shaking its heads and swishing its tail.

The bull took notice of Amelia's body hanging from the post. It reared and snorted, tugging its front leg against the mud. As it lunged towards her, the immediate reaction was to curl into a crunch. She pulled herself upwards to avoid the oncoming hit. Eyes tightly shut, she held that position mid-air as the bull's horns collided with the post instead of her head. The force of the collision wobbled the post and Amelia with it. Her breath held; she kept that position until the animal turned to do another round. She relaxed and fell back down, straighten her body as her head hit the post. She took three rapid breaths before pulling herself upwards once more, avoiding the collision. The animal reared back to the end of the ring and she came back down.

This would go on for a good few minutes. The gang riled around, urging the bull to be more aggressive and shouting in disappointment each time it avoided the collision with her. After an hour she was exhausted, so was the animal. The gang scattered to their duties, leaving her hanging upside-down.

It's not long that someone can survive hung in such a way. She felt herself becoming dizzy. Her mind was clouded and less inclined to keep her focused. She started to slip into a slumber. She jolted, regaining conciseness for a brief moment, the pressure was overwhelming. 'I can't let myself slip...' To keep herself awake, she began to hum a song.

Voice faint, she began to sing. "Well look way down the river-" She tried to remember the words to the soulful song she heard years ago, "What do you think I see? I see a band of angels and they're coming after me." She stopped for a minute to catch a breath before continuing, "But Gabriel don't you blow your trumpet 'til you hear it from me. Ain't no grave can hold my body down..." She fainted but came back to consciousness quick. She kept murmuring the song, repeating the hopeful verse until it was barely audible "Ain't no grave can hold my body down. Ain't no grave..." The singing stopped. Brain deprived of oxygen; Amelia felt herself slipping into another blackout. Her eyes opened then shut slowly, vision more blurred each time.

In the distance, she saw a figure approaching her. The way the light hit, only a large silhouette was visible. Her already impaired vision made it impossible to distinguish who this man was. He neared her at what seemed like an eternity, almost in slow motion until he finally stopped mere inches away. Slight panic formed in her as the man stood near, towering over her with an imposing muscular build. His hands were fit for strangling, she could tell that much. He could probably toss her with ease, she guessed. 'This be it.' She shut her eyes tightly. 'They sent this bear of a man to end me...'

The man reached out to her and she anticipated that pain would come soon, probably a lot of it too. She held her breath, shut her eyes, and prepped for the worst. Instead, she was greeted with a gentle tap to her face, the hand felt rough on her delicate cheek - not threating though. She blinked, looking through a hazy gaze at the stranger.

The man was kneeling down at her level and that's when he became visible. The brims of his hat cast a shadow onto his face, while the rest was covered with a dark bandana - fully concealing his identity. She caught a glimpse of the stranger's gripping stare; weary eyes looked at her, deep and mysterious like their owner, but they evoked a sort of kindness through them.

His bulky hands grabbed both of her shoulders and lifted her lifeless body with ease as if she were made of cotton. A mere gasp escaped her lips at the sudden gesture. He pushed her upwards to rest her body on his own; propping her up this way so that with his free hand he was able to cut the rope tied to the ankles and then the one around the wrists. He let her go and she stumbled away from the stranger, leaning her body on the fence. She breathed rather frantically, trying to regain some steady feet but slid down to the ground once more. Eyes wild, she dared to look up at the man. The sun was bright right behind him, she squinted trying to make sense of the situation.

"Get up Amelia, we ain't got the time" Arthur's voice was deep in tone, low in volume, but firm to indicate clear instruction. Surprised at hearing her name from him, she looked at him once more. He had hoped to not intimidate the girl too much, but it wasn't obvious to her as she pushed all her body away from him. He tried softening his tone as he sensed her apprehension, "I'm...I won't hurt ye."

She swallowed a nervous knot that formed in her throat and asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm gonna help ye, now just lift yerself." He extended a hand towards her and all she could do is trust him no matter how ill-advised it seemed - perhaps he wouldn't hurt her. With much hesitance, she reached out and he grabbed her hand and it felt so strong; the hold was firm around her frail palm.

"Come now." He hoisted her up. "You can lean on me, hurry now, we gotta leave."

She pulled her hand away, feeling too vulnerable towards a stranger - her pride overtook her reason, "I don't need that kind of help." She protested quietly. "Who are you? I asked twice now."

Arthur responded with an ironic chuckle he said, "Mighty sharp tongue you have to someone who's tryin' to help."

A figure became visible in the corner of his eye. Before she could argue back, he placed a hand on her shoulder and lowered them both into hiding. He motioned to be quiet. At the same moment, a pair of scouting gang members made their way around near to where they were.

"We'll take a wide berth around them, come back to where I came from to my horse." He instructs, voice low and thick. Looking around once more, he says, "No noise or hustle, we get out without any trouble, you understand?"

"Sure, that a plan, but where are you taking me, mister?" She hissed, objecting to escaping with a complete stranger, possibly putting herself into more danger.

"Back to your momma, Mary."

An 'oh' escaped her lips. He nudged her arm and indicated with his fingers 'two' pointing in both directions; Two guards on each side. One pair of men were resting with no care in the world, the other two turned to the lookout in the outskirt direction of the camp.

Amelia looked back at the direction of the barn where she knew the horses were kept. She noticed that there was a blind spot and low on her feet, she scurried towards the barn – the opposite direction Arthur had in mind.

"Hey, where are you off to?" He said rather loudly, trying to halt her.

"I got some unfinished business with them boys, come and help me."

He cursed under his breath, immensely regretting getting himself caught up in this mess. He grabbed her arm to stop her. "There ain't no time for this."

"I ain't leaving until I get back what them boys stole from me."

"If you keep making stupid moves you ain't leaving here at all." He hissed; his voice steady but growing in frustration.

"Look, it's just here." She whispered, pointing at the stable.

Amelia snuck to the bottom of the gate, peering above to see if anyone lingered inside. No one was there but the horses. A good lot of them too, full adult horses ready for sale. There were Flake and Gin, and the grey stallion she caught the other day with the yearling leaning onto it for its tiny dear life. The rest were fine nags too, all probably stolen.

Arthur stopped near her. "The horses?" This was risky, he noted. Then again, it wouldn't be like him to let up an opportunity to make the O'Driscoll's lives a living hell. That would be a joy on its own.

He tapped her shoulder while passing one of his guns to her. A schofield revolver, one of a pair that he owned; silver metals, beautifully engraved on the mahogany grip; She traced a finger on the carving. "Hey kid, look at me." He grabbed her attention. "You know how to shoot?"

She examined the weapon and immediately nodded, trying to hide the inkling of doubt that resided in her expression - she couldn't shoot. He duly noted that there was hesitation on her behalf but proceeded to give the weapon anyway. Best keep her armed if this would work, all hell should break loose as soon as the horses are let free.

He observed the animals carefully, picking out their leader. He would mount the most confident of them all, and only that way would the rest of the herd cooperate. He eyed the grey stallion and noticed how most of the horses gravitated towards him.

He searched the barn for a lasso, rope of any sort, all the time low on his feet. He calms the horses that neighed at his presence as he walked around them, patting the uneasy ones, speaking softly to the younger ones. Amelia admired his patient demeanour around the animals, how understanding he was. The same man she thought would strangle the life out of her - he was, surprisingly...gentle.

Most horses still had a halter around their faced, some had saddles too. Typical for the O'Driscolls to disregard another living being, god forbid they provide them with comfort. Cruel bastards but their negligence worked to his favour; he was able to loop the horses by their halters in a line using the rope he found. It was long enough to cover all seven animals.

"We aim to head in that direction there." Arthur pointed out the distance to where his horse was hitched. "Alright, you'll go first, stay beside the horse and use it as cover-"

"But the horses-"

He held up a hand to stop her, "They won't shoot their livestock, they got three hundred dollars 'least on them ponies, they'll shit themselves before letting Colm know they shot his paycheck." He walked to the back of the line of horses he formed. "I'll follow close behind, so I'll be overlooking the whole mess and wranglin' them where they need to be going. When I give you a sign, mount that nag up front and ride, don't be looking back. Shoot when you need to."

Amelia walked to the front and spotted Gin in line, his ears pinned back clearly distressed. She approached him and he let out a low neigh at her presence, too startled to recognize her probably. She patted his neck.

"Alright then." He said with a slight sigh in his voice, mentally preparing for what will unfold. Arthur lifted his head to signal at the barn's gate.

Amelia nodded as she unhooked the metal bar holding it closed. She opened the door as swiftly and quietly as possible.

* * *

**"Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey.**

**― Vera Nazarian**


	8. Lucky Shot

**Author's Note:** I'll start the chapter off with a big thank you to **Sparkeyssj3**, **Opaquee**, and the various **guests** that took the time to review the story. I would like to express my gratitude as the reviews show me that the story is enjoyable and it gives me the motivation to keep going. I recognize the value of all the comments and appreciate the time someone spent writing feedback as it contributes to the story.

**This chapter has a decent amount of action, enjoy!**

**Brandey XX**

* * *

**Lucky Shot**

When the gates of the barn opened, the horses walked out one by one. Lead by Amelia in the front but controlled through Arthur's directions from the back.

"Steady." He instructed the stallion, pulling on its halter, "Take the lead boy." The stallion instinctively neighed loudly at the herd ahead, giving them his own cue to trot. The horses listened to the stallion, their alpha.

Amelia took each step carefully. On the barn's exit, she noticed a dark duster coat and she quickly grabbed it, putting it on her back and placing Arthur's gun in it. It was oversized but it would do the job of a gun holder. She was being pulled by the first horse rather fiercely, her legs shuffled trying her best to match the rhythm of its trot. Her body close to the horse, hidden behind one foot in front of the other.

They haven't been noticed, yet. All the horses were out of the barn now, trotting in the direction Arthur intended them to.

"Hey! The horses, they get out of the barn!" One of O'Driscoll's boy shouted with a thick Irish accent. "Which one of you idiots left the gate open?" He began to walk in the direction of the horses, with two more men beside him coming up to deal with the issue.

Horses became uneasy, instinctively sensing the oncoming danger.

Amelia peeked from above the horse before ducking back down. She turned her head to Arthur and whispered nervously, "Mister, I think we need to get a move on…"

Arthur's nodded, demeanour still calm and pacing near the horse. He whispers to himself, "Come closer ya filthy bastards." Referring to the men running from afar to the horses. His hand rested on the cool iron on his hip, ready to draw at the right moment.

"The girl! She'd disappeared too!" Another of O'Driscoll's boy noticed. "Boys, ya shoot her straight when you see that maggot!"

"Damn, damn." Amelia cursed under her breath. "Mister, they're nearing." She hissed the words.

The O'Driscoll boys spotted Arthur's headfirst, "Hey…Hey! It's one of them Van der Linde scums! Boys, I need help here!"

Arthur reached for his gun and with no hesitation shot him straight in his head. The poor fool didn't see it coming.

Amelia flinched at the sight of the gory image - but quickly her attention went back to where it needed to be. The boy's lifeless body fell down to the ground, and with that kill, everything went mad; Arthur signalled with a whistle, mounting the stallion himself. The stallion reared and neighed, in turn, the other horses became uneasy. Arthur didn't lose his stride, quickly pulling the reins back to get the horses front feet back on the ground. He shot two more shots, hitting two more nearing man - they both fell mid-run. He shouted towards Amelia the anticipated signal, "Now! ride!"

The horses started to gallop but Amelia's reaction was slow. She managed to grab a fist full of the mare's mane and hop up and onto its bareback – just in time too, any second later and it would be impossible to catch the startled horses that were picking up speed. Her whole body hugged the horse whose gait was rather high and bouncy - each hoof striking the ground hard with a moment of suspension in between each stride. She wobbled like a rag doll on the massive animal's back - it must have been a comical sight.

Arthur dared to hope that she would gain some control over the horse otherwise she will fall off. It would be a bloody mess if he would need to stop this stampede of horses for any reason. He couldn't help but scold the girl. "Amelia!" Voice indignant as he shouted, "Stop messing about an' focus a little, look ahead and not at the horse below!"

'Yea. Alright, I can manage. I got this, just gotta lift myself…' She straightened her posture with all her energy and pulled a gun out of the coat, with her free hand, she held onto the reins. Balancing came easy once her eyes focused ahead.

'You got real lucky there, kid.' Arthur shook his head. His focused went back at the O'Driscoll boys who were pulling their guns out and running at them. He aimed and pulled the trigger, shooting the couple of them - all while tapping his legs onto the stallion and keeping the gallop steady, shouting all along in rhythm, "Hiya! Hiya!"

The O'Driscoll's mounted their horses and dispersed into two directions.

Amelia had the view from the front, she noticed a mustang mounted by its reins to a tree up ahead.

Arthur shouted at her, "Pull those reins closer and head left!"

She did as she was told and pulled her left hand back, turning the mare along with the rest of the horses leftwards. As he neared the hitched horse, he whistles, and the horse's ears prick up. Arthur pulled out his hunting knife. 'Don't have time to change here.' He swung his knife at the reins and cut them. "Come 'ere boy!" The mustang listened without hesitation and followed the herd of galloping horses.

Amelia looked back and noted the loyalty of Arthur horses - she smiled; everything was going smooth. As she turned back around to face the front, two O'Driscolls were heading at them horseback, coming into what would be a collision.

The boys pulled their guns out and aimed, dispersing on either side. It was an instinctual reaction as she lifted the revolver and pointed back at them, aiming at the chest of the oncoming boy. Not hesitating, she pulled the trigger and her arm jolted upwards from the force of the shot - a strong stiffness was felt in her shoulder. The bullet hit the boy's neck. Blood splat onto her clothes and face. There was a good deal of smoke. Her ears rang. She closed her eyes from the impact, scrunched her nose at the smell of gun powder.

Another shot was fired, this one came from behind - Arthur shot the other man. She looked to her other side. The second boy was dead, his foot still stuck in the stirrup as the lifeless body was dragged by the horse.

Her body tensed; she held the reins close with such force that her palm was turning white. She used her other hand that held the gun to wipe her face from the enemy's blood. _'Heavens, forgive me for being such a fool! I've killed a man.'_

* * *

The area ahead was clear as they rode for a couple of miles, they must have lost them somewhere in the forest. They arrived at the open plains of the Heartlands.

"Whoa there boy, stop," Arthur instructed the stallion, and he did as he was told; in process, stopping the whole herd ahead. He dismounted the stallion; the horse become winded, overheated and tired from the long run, protesting any more commands from Arthur – he rather switch to his horse than be bucked off from the unsure mount.

Amelia slowly loosened the grip of the mare's mane and reins. She put the gun in the coat's inner pocket and looked up at the sky. Both hands fell to her side in pure shook, she took a good few breaths of the fresh air as a cool late afternoon breeze blew by. She closed her eyes, savouring the sounds of stillness in the land.

"That was quite a _show_ back there." Arthur tried grabbing her attention. She didn't respond. He approached the girl and the horse. "Hey," He tried again; voice stern as he patted Amelia's leg. She snapped out of the short rest to look at him, completely unaware that he spoke to her.

"How did I just survive all of that?"

"I don't know, you were a mess back there." He said plainly, yet in a joking manner, however, Amelia must've not paid his words much attention as she only stared into the distance ahead.

"I can hardly hear anything."

"I assume. Lotta shots were fired." She didn't respond so he continued, "You in one piece, kid?"

"I think so. Yes." Doing her best to steady the shaky voice. She began to tap her body with both hands. "I'm just feeling faint, tis' all, probably just shaken."

"You sure kid? You're covered in blood." He added, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Oh that. No, it's not mine." Her hand stopped at her right shoulder and she hissed loudly. "Oh, damn. My arm." Her mind traced the paint back to the force of the whiplash from the gun she fired."

She slid down from the horse, holding onto the wounded shoulder. When she landed, she could not keep her balance and stumbled. Arthur caught her by the shirt collar to prevent the fall. He waited as she steadied her footing before pushing her hand away. "Let me see," He grumbled, sliding her coat from one shoulder. It revealed a round puncture hole and a white shirt stained by dried blood. "A bullet went into ya."

"I can't feel it," She attempted to act unfaced, but by the way she stammered and her legs wobbled all indicated shock. Why didn't she feel the impact of a bullet? It must have happened when she and the O'Driscoll's boy simultaneously shot at one another. "What a mess, what a goddam mess!" She sat down on the ground, her head down and covered in by her hands.

Arthur tilted his head, concern whether she will be able to go on as he observed the wound closer. He could see the bullet and luckily it did not penetrate deep, easy to remove and no need to seal in the shot. "It's going be okay, we'll patch you up and –"

She jolted her head up, "What will momma say?!" She whined.

Arthur chuckled to himself. "That is the concern on your mind?" He knew Mary well and how dramatic she could be. Rightly so, but seeing this girl dreading her home return moreover any pain she could be feeling – well, it was just amusing. So, he pondered on it, _'Foolish but got grit, not feeling that bullet all that time.'_

"This is a serious matter Mister." She winced, looking up at him and he offered her a fleeting smile.

"Oh, I'm sure it is." His tone was sarcastic. "You'll be fine if you survived the O'Driscoll's you'll get by with your momma too."

"Pff, you don't know what my mother is capable of."

He knew and being a bit too forward he formed a response in a huff that sounded like an ironic laugh and Amelia didn't know how to interpret that. She left the matter as it was and instead asked, "Your name, I never heard it?"

He undid a faded black bandana from around his neck before kneeling down to her level. "Arthur Morgan." He answered, tying the scarf tightly around her shoulder preventing any more unnecessary blood loss.

She winced in pain. "Amelia Linton. A pleasure…"

"To your service, madame." He said in the unique brand of droll self-mockery before standing to his full height. "Come now, mount up." He patted the side of her head, "We might still have those bastards on our tails."

They rode through the plains of the Heartland back towards Valentine, both keeping a steady pace.


	9. Above and Beyond

**Above and Beyond**

It was still early evening in Valentine, people were lazing about, sleeping in corners, conversing, getting ready to call it a day. That was the case for the pair of men walking down the muddy road through town, finishing their shift at the construction site. One said to another, "I'm telling you, Harold, if Lottie catches me with a drink in my hand going off on another bender...That's it! I'm out of the house for sure."

"You worry too much, Albert." He hiccupped between words; his country accent was strong. "My Edna...'s been sayin' it for years, she still with me."

Albert contemplated the idea long and hard, before finally smiling and agreeing, he said "Ahh, what the hell. Let's have a hog-killin' time and forget-" He stopped mid-sentence as he spotted the shadow of a large horse next to him, then another shadow, and another...He stumbled back, and his friend caught him. They both backed away to take a good look at the parade of horses that walked through the middle of the main street. They glanced up, and there, sitting high up at the horse in the front, was a little lady in clothes fit for a wrangler.

Albert took off his hat and squinted his eyes, "My golly, I must already be drunk, Harold."

"Drunk off the sun you looney, I'm seein' what you seein'," Harold added. Both men glared at the unusual sighting.

A pair of working girls dressed for the night passed the line of horses, they couldn't help but stare too, one whispered something to the other.

"You're getting quite the looks, kid." Arthur proclaimed from the back.

"I think it's them horses that are causing the stir," Amelia murmured, slightly annoyed and ignoring the onlookers altogether.

He let out a low chuckle from deep within his throat, "If you say so."

Amelia's head fell down to hide her face, feeling embarrassed at the unforeseen attention. "It's just up ahead at the barn, Mr. Morgan."

* * *

At the Amos Levi Blacksmith & Farrier stables, Duke Levi was saying goodbye to his family. His son was tacking up an old mare, preparing his Pa's wagon for the journey ahead.

"Henry," Duke spoke firmly to his son, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm gonna be gone for a week, maybe two. You take good care of your momma and that business there." He pointed up at the family's barn.

"Must you go, Duke," His wife's tone was awfully sad. "Just deal with the blacksmith duties, forget them ponies." Her concern was that for his safety. The world out there was harsh; if the outlaws don't rob and kill him, the heat would prove to be deadly for an elderly man like himself.

He embraced his wife and tried to reason once more, "I'm so sorry Charlette, it won't sustain the three of us if I don't purchase some horses-"

"Look, dad!" Henry called out.

"Mr. Levi!" A familiar voice resonated from up ahead.

Duke spotted the girl atop the horse. "Amelia? What in god's name-?" He laughed between each word, shocked at the sight - all of his horses, previously stolen, heading straight towards him.

Amelia pulled on the reins to halt the horse and stop it horizontally near Duke. They all returned to the rightful owner. Henry, Amelia, and Arthur all helped to put the animals back into their individual stalls. She emerged from the barn with Arthur right behind.

"Well," Duke started, a grin painted across his face, he shook his head in disbelief. "This is truly overwhelming, 'tis the last thing I would expect to happen today." He placed a hand firmly on Amelia's shoulder. "Am I glad you walked into my barn when you did."

"I couldn't let them boys chisel away from yer honest living. But...Mr. Morgan here, he's the real saviour."

Arthur tipped his hat to Duke, humble as ever and hiding behind the shadows of his hat's brims.

"A pleasure, Sir. I feel like we've met?"

"We have Mister. You bought a black shire from me a couple o' weeks back."

"Yes, yes, I remember. Thank you, thank you both!" He promptly shook Arthur's hand, then Amelia's too. He stopped to look closer at the girl, noting the bloodstains on her clothes, the color from her face gone, pale as the moon she was. "Dear girl, you don't look so good."

Arthur cleared his throat, and she looked up at him. He subtly patted his shoulder, reminding her that she was, in fact, wounded there and in need of attention. Not urgent, but they shouldn't waste any more time.

"I should head out now Mr. Levi."

"Right! Of course, I won't hold you back any longer. I don't know how I could express my gratitude." He promptly reached into his pocket and pulled out six bills, "Thirty dollars, 'least I could do is pay fairly for the hell you two must have gone through."

"Thank you." She accepted the payment, passing half to Arthur, he accepts too with a nod.

"And Gin, too." He added before they both turned away. "Take the horse, he already belongs to you, I can't deny him a good rider."

"Mr. Levi, I feel it might be too-"

"We insist," Charlette added, coming up next to Duke, hugging him. "You spared my husband from certain death out in the prairie."

Henry came up from the barn and bowed his head to the pair. "Thank you both."

* * *

Mary kept a weather eye out at the horizon, waiting for Arthur to return with her daughter. She nervously walked from one end of the porch to the next. Soon it would be night, her concern for the pair grew. Memories flooded her mind; this was certainly not the first time she waited up for Arthur to come back from his journeys. All those years ago she had the same feeling of worry in the stomach. She dreaded and loved waiting for his return; Arthur Morgan, the criminal, the gunslinger.

Time had passed through her heart. This time around, she was not waiting anxiously for Arthur, but on her daughter.

The sun was setting on the horizon, the city glowed in orange. Mary squinted her eyes because, in the distance, she started to make out figures on the horizon. It was Arthur on his horse, coming towards her. Then she saw her daughter, right at Arthurs side. The sun was glowing so bright that the vision ahead was dimmed, she placed a hand over her forehand to see better. Her eyes were not fooling her, it was the pair approaching the farm on horseback. She quickly walked down from the porch.

Arthur looked over at her and tilted his hat in a greeting manner. He circled his horse slowly towards the post, sliding down and hitching it. "Miss, I believe I found your daughter." He stated coolly.

"Oh, Arthur there aren't enough words to thank you for what you've done for me and my family." She exclaimed. "I've kept the food, you can still eat dinner with us, I insist." Mary gave Arthur a big smile of gratitude and looked up at Amelia who was just getting down from her horse too; a little bit slower, and clumsier than usual.

"Sure Mary, why not." He scratched his beard and tilted his head to Amelia who just approached the pair. "But you need to attend to your daughter first, she caught a bullet." He said in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

"A bullet!" Mary exclaimed in shock, "We need to get that out quickly before you get some nasty infection!"

Amelia sighed, clearly displeased with the way Arthur chose to tell her mother about the incident. She whispered under her breath, "Very subtle, Mr. Morgan."

He felt no remorse for his truth-telling and said nothing back. Instead, he reached into his satchel to grab tobacco and began to roll. He placed the ready cigarette in his lips and lit a match against his shoe sole. He glanced at Amelia and shrugged slightly.

Amelia rolled her eyes and swung her coat around herself to conceal the holster with the weapon inside. She winced in pain and held onto her shoulder while giving her mother a closed-mouth smile. She had the look of shamed painted across her face, but an apology would come difficult to Amelia. Her mother knew well that her daughter prided herself in ego.

"And this nag there?" Mary pointed to Gin.

"A form of payment."

"Mhm, I believe it when I see the bill of ownership."

"Momma..." She almost whined. "I ain't a thief."

"That there is hers, I can confirm," Arthur spoke up, it would only be fair to ease up on the already beaten girl down on her luck, shot up and all.

"Fine then, that's another mouth to feed. Go upstairs and wash that wound, get those dirty rags off yourself. I'll be with you shortly."

"Okay, alright I'm going." Amelia nodded while walking past the two and into the house.

Arthur and Mary shared a moment, they both smiled, and the tension was gone once Amelia was out of earshot. "Sorry about that. Just the way it needs to be, tryin' to teach some disciplines to a misfit teenager like her." Mary explained.

"Yea, some character on that kid." He threw away his cigarette. "I understand."

She reached out to pat his arm and lead him towards the house in a welcoming manner.


	10. Measures of Durability

**Next chapter after a short break. Thank you to another Guest who left a review. ****Hope you're enjoying the story so far. **

* * *

**Measures of Durability**

Mary prepared for the removal of the bullet by disinfecting the tools with some strong bourbon. The mother undid Arthur's bandana that he tied around Amelia's shoulder earlier on, exposing the wound and the bullet sticking out a quarter of a way out. She kneeled next to the bed while holding a lantern for extra light in one hand, and a pair of tweezers in the other hand.

Amelia's breaths were getting quicker, her eyes wider, she had never experienced a bullet wound and she was shocked at what was about to happen; a mess of her own doing. Oh, what a fool she was, playing brave like that thinking she could fight in a man's world. She wielded a gun, shot a man and got shot right back – the image of the young man's blood-covered face flashed before her eyes and she shut them tightly, so afraid to face the reality of her actions.

"Hey 'Melia, stay with me." Mary instructed.

"Yes Ma', I just…I need a moment, please." She stammered her words.

Mary shook her head in disappointment, "First you come home all beaten and bruised, then with a bullet in ya' the next day?!" Her voice grew louder from all the anger she felt - she composed herself quick, remembering that they weren't alone in the house. She lowered her tone to a softer one, while desperately questioning her daughter, "What are you turning into?"

Downstairs, Arthur overheard the commotion and looked at Jamie who was heating their dinner.

"She's always up to no good, Arthur." He commented whilst stirring the food. "The little time I've known her, always getting into trouble like this, I tell ya'."

"You aint a saint yourself Jamie, tried it with those batty Chelonians - a mess of your own kind." He pointed out the irony in Jamie's judgment, to which he was too embarrassed to comment back on.

Arthur walked upstairs and over to the bedroom where the women were. Amelia kept trying to buy herself more time, stalling her mother with questions or stories. Mary was losing her patients, "Quit beatin' the devil around the stump, each minute that passes is precious time wasted, do you want to lose that arm!"

"Don't say that Ma', sweating like a whore in a church!" She said in between nervous laughter and whimpers.

Mary smacked her head. "Language, you brat!"

Arthur guffawed at that comment and the frustration it caused Mary. She was always prim and proper with such language. He leaned onto the doorframe. This exchange was going on for quite some time now, and neither of the women were getting anywhere.

"Okay, Okay! Go on now Ma', take it out!" Amelia was playing on a second of courage, but as soon as the tweezers got close to the wound she flinched away, "No I can't! Let's just leave it in."

Mary placed her arms on her knees and dropped her head down in a manner of frustration. "We can't seal it in when it's sticking out" She reasoned with the last bit of energy.

At that moment Arthur decided to intervein; He approached the other side of the bed and kneeled down on one knee. Voice low as he spoke to her, "Hey, we're going to need to take that bullet out, you're just going to have to brave it out."

Amelia turned her head from her mother to Arthur. She thought for a good minute but ultimately nodded in agreement. She whispered to him, a moment of her own weakness, "Have you ever been this scared Mr. Morgan?" She asked, ever so ashamed to admit it.

"Scared?" He pondered on that for a second before finally saying, "Sure. Why don't I tell you about the time I was hunting in those very same mountains?" He pointed to the tall peaks outside the window.

Mary applied pressure to the wound and splashed a bit of whiskey onto it; Amelia squirmed from the pain but kept her eyes on Arthur, any moment to be tough was now. Somewhere in her mind, she felt like she needed to impress this man, he sure had grit and courage - she wanted to match it. 'I got myself in this mess, Mr. Morgan didn't flinch when we ran wild with them horses from the gang, I can't give in now…'

He began his story, "A few months ago, on a particular misty spring morning, I found myself in the Grizzly West hunting for the finest specimens of timber wolf. I heard rumours of a creature with fur as white as fresh snow. The visibility was low, and little did I know I was not alone. I was in far advance from the camp when I was cut off by Cassidy's Wild Bunch - the most bloodthirsty savages you'd have the displeasure of meeting. I've managed to slip by them while they chased me into a dead-end valley between vast trees and rocks...You're following the story so far?"

Her eyes must have shut midway through the tale, the pain was becoming more prominent - but she promptly opened her eyes once more to focus on Arthur.

He continued "I had to take a stand for my life, there was no outrunning them. So, I turned, and they have all have disappeared, vanished into thin air, the mist hung low making it impossible to see further than a few feet away. I hear nothing, total silence..."

Mary placed the tweezers carefully into the wound. The stinging pain hit Amelia immediately and she turned her head to face her mother and down at the wound with a worried look painted across her face. Mary stopped and pulled away, feeling total remorse for causing the pain. Arthur reacted quick, grabbing Amelia's cheek with one hand to pull her head towards him once more. The eyes widen at the sudden interaction, but quickly soften as he continued the story.

"Then I heard gunfire from all around as they began to pursue after me once more, fast too. Not fast enough though. I had my mustang, King. He's a strong mount and there was not a horse in that territory that could run him to the ground. But I did not appreciate being chased and shot back like that. When the posse had thinned down to about four men, some lost in the maze of the valley's trees, I turned King around and taken the reins in my teeth and rode right at them boys firing them two Schofield revolvers I carry on my hip."

Arthur paused as Amelia looked impatiently at him, not focused on the bullet that would soon be taken out. She eventually grew curious about the tale, beginning to think that perhaps Arthur was stretching the blanket of truth. She raised an eyebrow and boldly commented, "This is hard to believe."

"What is?"

"One man riding at four men like that."

"It is true enough. You go for a man and put him at a corner, and he don't have time to think, it's just instinct that takes over. He don't think 'bout how many is there or is this sensible, he only think about how he may get clear out of the wrath that is about to set down on him."

"What happened next?" Amelia asked. "Did you shoot them?"

"What could I do?" He shrugged his shoulders, "I pissed my pants!"

Arthur chuckled with Amelia joining in laughter soon after.

Mary took the chance to grab at the bullet and yank it out. Amelia groaned for a second, and then it was all over.

"Well Mr. Morgan," Amelia said between heavy breaths. "I did not piss my pants."

"Perhaps you're much braver than I am, kid." He placed a hand on her head praising the courage she showed today. He looked at Mary who mouthed a thank you towards him. She sealed the wound and applied a cold compress to Amelia's forehead.

"So," Amelia started, rolling her shoulder back and wincing in pain when the pressure from movement proved to be too much, too soon. "How did get out alive? How did the story actually end?"

"It's a story for another time."

"Don't bother the man with more questions now," Mary said while placed the bullet into a tray on the bedside table, it clanged as it hit the metal. "Come, Arthur, you've done enough for us today, let's eat."

"Yes ma'am, with pleasure."

She turned to her daughter, "If and when you're feeling better, join us for dinner."

Amelia watched the pair leave the room. Her focus went to the bloody tray and to the bullet that was inside her shoulder a second ago. She looked beyond the bed and down on the floor where Arthur's bloody bandana laid. She slid her body closer to the edge of the bed, reaching for it and wincing in pain in the process. She grabbed it with the ends of her fingertips and pulled it up, observing the dark material. _'Who are you really, Mr. Morgan.'_

* * *

During dinner, Arthur and Jamie reminisced on the time of their first hunting trip back in the day when he was still seeing Mary regularly. They remembered the big and wild turkey that Jamie was so desperate to catch but couldn't bring himself to kill. Jamie had a gentle nature to him, one that his father constantly mocked him for. That hunting trip then was no exception Jamie was told by his father for not being manly enough to kill his dinner while Arthur was told to leave the house promptly for not being welcome.

Amelia walked down from her room and into the dining room, she overheard the story of how Arthur trained Jamie all those years ago. She made a mental note to question both Jamie and mother about this new stranger in their life. She took a seat at the far corner of the table. "You couldn't harm a mouse Jamie Gillis, how do you think this food gets on the table, you gotta kill it," Amelia teased, adding her own two cents of opinion.

Jamie wasn't having none of it, he quickly fired back, "Well, you ain't so tough yourself, you don't hunt."

Amelia's face turned red, she crossed her arms, "Yea I don't, but if I had to, I would do what I would have to."

Jamie and Amelia tested each other back and forth, their relationship dynamic seemed to be more like siblings rather than of an uncle and niece. Amelia was quick with comebacks and Jamie would often take them to heart. Often Mary needed to step in and break up the arguments. Arthur enjoyed his time with the Gillis & Linton bunch. The dinner was a nice change to the usual stew pot over the fire, the company a bit different – less drunk and violent, or rowdy after a few.

Jamie and Amelia were left to clean up after dinner while Mary and Arthur said their goodbyes at the door. Mary's tone was gentle and quiet, she thanked Arthur infinitely for the help he has offered in the past few days.

Amelia put down the dishes in the sink and whipped her hands on her pants. Quickly, she walked out of the kitchen and towards the door.

Mary was holding the front door open, waving at Arthur. Amelia tried to walk past her mother, but Mary swiftly grabbed her collar to halt her there and then. "Missy, where are you off? Have you not had enough adventure for one night?"

"Just wanted to show gratitude to Mr. Morgan, say my goodbyes, 'tis all." She explained impatiently while pulling onto the sleeves of the duster coat she frantically tried to throw on her back, her movement uncoordinated due to the wound.

Mary patted her back, "Go on then," she said with a smile as she closed the door behind her.

"Mr. Morgan!" Amelia called out just as Arthur mounted his horse.

"Miss. Linton," he said, turning around to give attention to the girl. He shuffled his weight in the saddle, grabbing the horse's reins in hand, ready to leave.

She slowed her quick prance to a more casual stride as she approached him. Her gaze went to the dark sky above, sprawled with millions of stars, the moonlit night was a delightful sigh. "Look at that full moon there, fit for a wolfs to howl at."

Arthur lit his cigarette, letting out a "Hmph" sound. He gazed into the moon too and the pair shared a silence.

"So, is this the famous mustang from the story?"

With the rolled tobacco cigarette in his lips, he said, "That very same one."

The horse was unusually large for its breed, but with all the usual features for a mustang; its dark chestnut coat shined in the moonlight, the tail and mane were black along with its feathered feet, it was truly a beautiful animal. Amelia placed her hands on the horse's neck, patting it, hoping to stop Arthur from a few more moments. She had an idea brewing in her head all night. She saw the skills Arthur possessed, and the persona was that of a powerful demeanour. She needed someone like that to mentor her, even just one lesson.

"Mr. Morgan I've been thinking. I need some guidance with my shooting, and I believe you're the man with that kind of skillset." She swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, before getting the courage to ask. "Could I ask you to mentor me?"

"You're right, I am that man and it's probably the only thing I'm good at. But I'm not in the business in teaching kids how to shoot." He turned the reins of the horse in the opposite direction, queuing the animal to walk.

Amelia persisted though, following besides as she pressed on, "I already know how to shoot, I just need brushing up on my aim, essentials really, it won't take long I learn quick." She almost had a begging tone to her voice. It was a rough world for her to live in. She knew that Jamie wasn't much of a man, so it was just her and her mother. She needed to protect them, gain skills, make better money, survive.

Arthur sighed. Nothing good would come out of this, and on top of it all, Mary would despise him for it. He rubbed his eyes in annoyance, "I simply don't have time, the answer is no." With those words, he tipped his hat to her and rode off into the distance.

She watched Arthur disappear into the night, dropping her head low all while feeling hopeless. She placed hands into the coat's pocket and felt a cool metal in one of them. "What the..." She raised an eyebrow as she pulled the revolver out of the pocket, it felt twice as heavy now.

A grin formed across her face as she turned to go inside the house.


	11. Just Like Old Times

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews from guest. Please keep them coming, I very much appriciate the feedback!**

**Shorter chapter, but do enjoy! **

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**Just Like Old Times**

Arthur laid awake on his bunk as dawn was upon the land. He turned his head slowly, in the direction of the rising sun. He looked at the boundless majesty of the mountains ahead and the light that sheds the shining high gleam from afar. On rocks, and hills, and wandering streams, New Hanover sure was a beautiful state. Their camp's high risen location on Horseshoe Overlook provided a beautiful scenery each new morning.

Perhaps it was far from the dream of the virgin west landscape he so longed to see, but it was something for the time passing; he hoped that one day when he opens his eyes, he can cast the gaze once more on the western horizon he so fondly remembers. He hoped.

Bill Williamson snored loudly, and Arthur snapped out of the daydream. He turned his attention to the passed out drunk – he and a few others from the camp went on another drinking bender last night. It went without a fistfight apparently, though these days the men from the gang seem to be doing better. The women seem happier too, even the elderly Miss. Grimshaw had been easier on the girls, and not barking her orders as per usual but rather asking in a kinder disposition.

John Marston was fast asleep, hungover most likely too. _'Lazy as ever, Marston.'_ He thought to himself as he noticed Abigail approaching her old flame, shaking him awake while he swatted her away like a fly, a nuisance, he did not wake.

Arthur huffed,_ 'Pitiful man. If I had half the luck you had with that woman and child…_'

Abigail, hopelessly disappointed at John's lack of interest with the young boy he wouldn't call son, gave up and walked off and back to her daily duties. Arthur fixed his eyes at little Jack; the boy looked so much like Marston it was silly to think how effortlessly he denied his fatherly duties to the boy.

Best not to trouble his mind with problems of others; he had plenty of his own. He lifted his body of the bunk while stretching his arms, slightly achy as his age seemed to be catching up to the body. He splashed a bit of water from a basin onto his face. He tossed his favorite brown leather jacket onto his back; placed his black hat firmly on his head and pulled onto his gun belt. All was a familiar routine for him; but then he paused for a second, thinking, _'Holster feels lighter than usual.' _He shook the belt and looked down.

The revolver was missing – the one he carried for many years, one of the few items he managed to salvage from the Blackwater mess. He grew slightly annoyed, tracing the events from the day before and how it had come to go missing. He hoped that it was a simple misunderstand and not a case of theft.

"Arthur." The elderly man approached him, smiling kindly as he passed a cup filled with coffee.

"Hosea." He acknowledged the gesture with a thankful nod, accepting the hot drink while taking a hefty sip.

"Fine morning." He commented all while noting Arthur's cross expression, "You're looking more irritable than usual my friend."

Arthur waved his hand dismissingly, the man was too observant, "Ah, it's nothing, really."

Hosea paused for a moment, before continuing his inquiry, "The girls and I had found some good picking in Valentine, we could use you for the day, what'd say?"

"Sure." he drawled his word while rubbing his chin; mind completely elsewhere. "I'll join ya', I got some business there anyway."

Hosea patted his back, "Good, always eases my mind knowing you're around."

"Me?" Arthur laughed heartily, adding his usual sense of dull sarcasm aimed at himself, "Just another excuse to be violent as I seem to attract that sort."

"No, no, it'll be just like the old days, and it'll do the girls good to get out more often." He led him onto the horses and where the wagon was ready. "Besides, it's always strategic and cunning planning when I'm involved."

"Sure, old man." He laughed at the comment, "If you say so."

* * *

A light rain visited the town of Valentine that late afternoon. The clip-clopping of hooves was prominent from the passers-bys and town folk's animals alike. The mud splashed around awfully; the town was overdue a more modern road with weather like this being a common thing in these parts.

A wagon pulled by two horses rode through the main road; slightly quicker than normally acceptable as it splashed water mixed with mud straight at Karen Jones's skirt. "Damn you to hell you bastard." She yelled at the man on the wagon, waving her fist at him. He shouted back an apology, but did not bother to stop.

"Language, my dear." Hosea commented sarcastically, passing a bag of potatoes to Arthur, who in turn tossed it to their wagon stationed outside the general store. "You are ladies after all, at least play the part."

The girls giggled, but Karen wasn't in the same mood, she crossed her arms and stiffed her upper lip.

"Want me to chase 'em down for you." Arthur added, more jokily than serious. He didn't get a reaction he expected, so he continued, "Oh, wipe that sour look of your face, or it might just stay on forever."

"Mhm," Tilly agreed, holding in a laugh, "Just look at poor Miss. Grimshaw!"

"Ah forget it, this town is losing its charm to me by the minute." Karen shouted.

"I think it's romantic, straight from a western dime novel." Mary-Beth added, "I half expect two gentlemen to meet at high-noon and fight for my fair heart."

"You're delusional. Put them books down and look up once in a while, it's pig shit and drunk ol' bastards all around." Karen said, while kicking off the mud from her boots. "Damn this place and all the people in it, how much did we make today?"

"Seven dollars seventy cents, not bad." Tilly said all while counting the pick-pocketed money they managed to stealthy take from a few drunken hotel guests. "Dutch will be happy."

Karen let out a huff of displeasure, "Ain't enough, we need something bigger."

"I agree." Arthur added while sealing the back of the wagon shut. "I haven't forgotten about that bank Miss. Jones. Just waiting for the right time."

"Hold you to it, Arthur," Karen point at his face as she circled around the wagon and jumped on. Tilly and Mary-Beth following soon after and Arthur assisted the women with a helping hand to get onto the wagon.

"You comin', Arthur?" Mary-Beth asked ever so softly.

"I got something to sort, I'll be right behind you lot." He tipped his hat to the women, and to Hosea. The elderly man returned the gesture and whipped the reins to get the horses moving, riding out of town.

Arthur grabbed the reins of his horse while leading him down the muddy road. He slowed his stride, taking each step slow. He'd been seeing Mary often in the past week, all because of certain circumstance he would not consider ideal reasons. It was taking a toll on him emotionally, bringing him back to a part of his life he long wishes to have forgotten.

Oh, sweet Mary, broken an outlaw's heart more times than it was acceptable.

He shook his head, almost forgetting the true reason for his visit. He needed to stop blaming the woman and focus on the task; simple, retrieve the gun and forget Mrs. Mary Linton for good.

It would be for the best.


	12. Ace in a Hole

**This is one of my favorite chapters to write so far. I do hope you enjoy it. Please review! **

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**Ace in a Hole**

Arthur approached the homestead. He straightened his shirt and fixed his hat. King neighed loudly, protesting the rain that was picking up, annoyed, as he pulled his front hooves against the mud.

"Easy boy, I won't take long." Arthur eased the animal before tying its reins to a hitching post.

He knocked on the door firmly three times. He dropped his head down slightly, allowing his hat to hide a good portion of his face. He hoped that Mary would not take offense to his uninvited visit.

It took a moment before footsteps were heard on the other end; the door opened.

"Hello Arthur, fancy seeing you again," Jamie said, all smiles and friendly while biting into an apple.

"Hello Jamie, is Mary-."

Mary appeared right behind Jamie, she shuffled in front of her brother, "Oh Arthur, good to see you! Come in, it's raining somethin' fierce out there."

He nodded, acknowledging the invitation and entering the house. He cleared his throat before speaking, "I seemed to have…I think I left something. Well, it's a long story but your daughter will know about it."

"Amelia?" Mary questioned curiously, she blinked a few times but finally said, "Sure, she's just upstairs."

She led Arthur upstairs, midway through the stairway she stopped and turned to him, "Do you mind me asking what that item is?"

"No, of course, I don't mind, it's…Uh, well it's…"

"Arthur?"

"It's my revolver."

Mary's eyes widen, "Loaded?"

"Yes." Arthur quickly lifted his hands in defense. "Long story, but I can -"

She held up her hand to stop him all while shaking her head, clearly displeased with both him and Amelia alike, and whatever situation must have occurred for her to get a hold of the loaded gun. Arthur sure hated to see her upset, and he much preferred her yelling than going all silent on him just as she did now.

She quickened her pace up the stairs with Arthur following behind. They reached the bedroom door and Mary opened it quickly. "Amelia?" Her tone had an inkling of harshness to it. No response. The room was empty. Mary rubbed her eyes in annoyance, but she sure knew where to get her answer to where her daughter went.

"Jamie!" She shouted.

Without even a second of a delay, he shouted from downstairs, "At the saloon!"

* * *

Arthur arrived on horseback at the saloon's entrance. All the hitch posts were taken by a crowd of horses, so he opted to tie up his on the other side of the street. "Be good now boy, won't take long." He promised once more.

Inside Valentine's saloon, the evening was just beginning. The end of the week was signified with crowds that flocked the bar to escape the workday at the bottom of a shot glass. It was loud and rowdy; the pianist played a good-humoured tune, a man leaned on the piano and swayed to each strike of the key, women pulled men to the side and to various rooms to do ungodly acts that they will mostly forget by the morning.

The rough-looking men gave low-eyed stares across the room to the man they vaguely recognized. Yup, only a couple of months in Valentine and he already acquired a reputation. Arthur approached the bar, squeezing past a few men that eyed him from head to toe.

"Whiskey, bartender, double shot." He threw the right amount of change onto the bar.

The bartender came back with his order mighty quick, "Mister, no trouble this time, I beg -"

"Yea, yea, I was defen…you know the story…"

"I just got the window fixed too, and –"

"Save it." He sighed, tossing another fifty cents onto the table. That was enough to shut the bartender's worries. He turned around and leaned on the bar, scanning the bustling room for sights of the young girl.

"I'll deal the next set gentleman?" Amelia inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Do the honours my sweet but toss them cards good." The man at the table hiccupped twice before adding, "I ain't been so lucky tonight."

"I'll toss them somethin' fierce my good sir." She added before gathering the cards off the table to begin the shuffle at an impressive rate. Too fast for most of the man to see the shuffle happening. Granted, the men she played against were in no state to play their keep at poker.

She sipped a cool glass of water while they drank hard liquor, that was their first mistake, not keeping a clear mind. Their second mistake was trusting an innocent looking girl asking to try her luck at her first poker game. That was a lie. She smiled wickedly, before tossing the cards to each of the four men around.

"I'll pass." The man on the right said after peaking at the cards.

"I'll open for one." The man right across from her proclaimed proudly.

"I'll fold." The man on the left said.

The game went on, Amelia betted more each time, hitting the five-dollar mark. One brave man matched the bet and was met with a perfect royal flush against his two pairs. She once more took the jackpot, gathering the winning proudly with both hands.

"Well, I'm all played out." One man confessed, "I know when it's not my night."

"Me too, I'm done." The other man said while tossing his cards on the table. "Beginners luck, my sweet."

"I don't believe the astonishing luck -" Amelia baffled, but stopped mid-sentence when a heavy hand rested on her shoulder. She glanced at the man who stood right behind her. Immediately, she recognized him. "Mr. Morgan! The odds of running into you here, tonight, I-"

"If I may ask you to step outside to talk, Miss. Linton."

"Well," She nervously laughed. His demeanour was slightly intimidating, and she could guess what his intentions were. Her free hand slowly traveled down from the table and onto her coat pocket until she felt the cool metal of the revolver. "I think it's best if we speak right here."

"I think it's best if we head out -"

"Is this man giving you trouble, my sweet." One of the players got up from his seat but promptly stumbled back into it, too drunk to keep balance. His attempt at intervening was ignored.

"You have something that belongs to me," Arthur stated with a firm tone to assure he wasn't ready to be hassled by her.

"This?" She swiftly tossed the gun from her pocket and onto the table. She planned this from the moment her fingers graced the metal moments ago.

"Yes." He bit his tongue from saying anything foul. "That."

"It's on the table now, play for it, Mr. Morgan."

'The nerve!' Arthur's blood boiled but he tried to keep his cool, his lip twitched the slightest. He exhaled all that frustration through his nose slow and steady before slamming his hands on the table and pointing a finger at her, "Listen, and listen good, kid, I ain't going to play your game. Give me that gun. Now."

"Look here mister," A man stepped in between the pair, less drunk than the one prior, "I saw her pull that gun out of her pocket. You want it, then you must play for it fair and square. We're all fair men here. As far as I'm concerned, your reputation in this town says otherwise. I'm inclined to believe little sister more than you. So, play them cards Mister, or we'll deal with you outside." A few other men chimed in with a simultaneous yea.

Arthur rubbed his temple, eventually pulling up a chair. No more trouble needed in this cursed saloon, every time he stepped foot in it, there was problems. He mentally noted to make this here, his last visit to the shithole of bad luck of his.

"I'll shuffle?" She smiled broadly while asking.

He propped his temple with one hand, defeated, he formulated a response by waving a free hand to give her the go.

She shuffled quick, tossing the cards mid-air at times. Arthur watched the quick hand she had, he focused on the cards. His eyes squinted to a flash of a card from a sleeve, and for a moment he swore he saw a few extra cards appear at the second and fourth position of the deck, and at the fifth, sixth, and seventh. She tossed the first card to him, second to herself, third to him, and the fourth to herself; finishing off by slamming the deck and sliding out the final three cards.

He paused, frowning his forehead. Were his eyes fooling him?

"Mr. Morgan?"

"What is the gun worth to you?"

She knew what she wanted, without hesitating she said, "The request I had the other night." He wasn't exactly sure what she wanted, so she clarified, "Teach me how to shoot this very same gun."

"Better than money, I suppose."

They began the game, looking at their cards. She matched the cards quick, a four of a kind against his measly high card. He lost.

A satisfactory smile formed across her face, she grabbed the won revolver from the table as she pushed her hat up with the barrel before tossing her feet on the table, "When shall we have the first lesson Mr. Morgan."

'The smug child.' That was the last straw, his eyes didn't fool him, the win was too smooth, too calculated. He didn't think too much before shouting, "You cheated, I saw them cards up your sleeve!"

The accusation was heard across the saloon. The pianist slammed the keys for an abrupt stop to the music.

A tense silence filled the room.

Amelia's eyes grew wide, she observed the room and thought, 'Oh shit.'

"Come to think of it…" one of the drunks that previously lost to Amelia spoke up. "Yea…yea, I thought I saw aces and kings, black diamonds matching up too preciously…You've played me out of seven dollars you little devil!"

It didn't take long for chaos to begin; one of the drunks picked Amelia up by her collar, shaking her fiercely and shouting insulting monikers at her, demanding the return of her winning.

Another man didn't take kindly to a woman being handled in such a rough way, so he stepped in to punch the assaulter in the face.

Amelia fell to the ground and began to crawl away from the brawl. This kicked off a full-blown barfight.

The pianist picked up the tune once more.

A rather lanky foolish man ran up at Arthur with a closed fist, to which he pushed the boy away with ease. Arthur shoved through the crowd, trying to keep his eye on the girl all whilst avoiding any potential fists coming his way. He made his way quickly to the girl trying to scurry away, crawling on the floor.

He grabbed her by her wrist, pulling her up effortlessly to his eye level. She grinned innocently when their eyes met. Her toes barely touched the ground as she swayed mid-air.

"Now Miss. Linton," He used his free hand to move past the crowd of rowdy men and women trying to escape the madness. "We're gonna have that chat outside, shall we?"

He swung the saloon door open, leaving the chaotic scene behind them. He held her wrist high as he walked, her toes barely touched the ground as she tried to keep up with his pace. He made his way to the alley by the building before tossing her onto the muddy ground.

He extended an open hand at her, "My revolver."

"We had a deal!"

He huffed in annoyance, "You cheated, the deal is off."

"That's not the way I see it."

"Are you trying to test me?" He kept his voice assertive and very much threatening, "I've been kind far too long but trust me, Miss. Linton, I ain't afraid to show my ugly side."

She stared at him with eyes wide like a doe, all cornered up by pray. Afraid if she were to make another move he would strike.

"Well!" He shouted once more, and she flinched. For a moment he held back, feeling remorse but he quickly remembered her cunning ways. "It ain't working on me no more, don't make this more difficult."

She reached into her pocket, retrieving the gun and extending it towards him. He pulled the gun from her hand, sliding it back into its rightful place in his holster. He turned to walk away.

"Please, just one lesson." She shouted after him, but he ignored her. "Mr. Morgan! I can't protect Ma' and me if I can't shoot!"

"Then stop bringing trouble onto yourself, kid."

"Hunting too, we're often hungry!" Her voice trembled. She followed right behind the gunslinger, "We're all alone on the road and I can't take it no more. I hear Mr. Gillis is a cruel man too! I'm desperate, please."

He stopped in his stride before saying ever so coldly, "Your misfortune, and none of my own."

Amelia slowed her pace until her legs could not drag behind any more. Her expression dropped. There is only so much one can push.

Arthur patted his horse, undoing the reins tied to the post. "Hey boah," he said quietly. He hooked his leg onto the stirrup and mounted in one swift movement. Slowly, he lifted his head and for a brief moment his eyes locked onto the girls. She stood and watched him as he prepared to leave. A sudden wave of uneasiness hit Arthur. The way her forehead was scrunched, the shape of her eyes when she was sad, it reminded him so much of a certain someone, a memory he buried away in his mind a long time ago.

"Why don't you ever wear your six shooters, Pa?" Young Isaac asked, every so curious as it was common for a boy his age to ask many questions. He followed Arthur into the shed where his father was preparing for the journey ahead.

"I don't the need to while I'm here, don't see any bad guys around."

"But you do when you're riding? Shooting all the bad guys then?"

"Mhm" Arthur agreed but failed to mention that often he was the bad guy. The boy was too young to be troubled with his father's life decisions.

"Want me to tell you something?"

"If you want to." Arthur was half paying attention to his son, his full focus on preparing all the necessities for the journey ahead; bullets, gun oil, cloths.

"I took your gun from the saddlebag, just to take a look at it."

"Oh." He said plainly while letting out a small chuckle, the boy was always scheming something on the side.

"Are you mad?"

"No, I guess not." He pondered for a second, surely this type of behaviour required scolding, or so his mother would say. "But if I were you, I'd leave a thing like that alone."

"You promised you'd show me how to shoot, just one lesson, please!"

"Your Ma' don't like guns around here, listen to her well when I'm away now, you hear?" Arthur walked towards his horse with a saddle in hands, "Next time, I promise I will teach you how to shoot my boy." He patted Isaac's head, waved at Eliza who looked on from the kitchen window.

He glanced one last time and saw Isaac at the end of the road that lead up to the house, there stood his young son, with disappointment and longing in his eyes that left Arthur with a feeling of guilt each time he said his goodbye. He rode off, leaving the homestead far behind.

There was no next time.

Isaac was shot and killed along with his mother, Eliza. Killed by robbers, all for ten dollars. If only Arthur chose to settle with his family for good, he would've been there to protect them. Maybe if he spared Isaac a moment to teach him how to shoot then.

He pushed the memories far back into the deepest corners of his mind. He glanced at Amelia who stood next to her horse, undoing the knot on its reins.

"Hey, kid."

She turned to him once more.

"Okay, I'll teach you to shoot, maybe hunt if it comes to it."

Her eyes lit up just the slightest, "Do you really mean it, Mr. Morgan?"

"Sure, you cheated but won nonetheless, I'll be a man of my word." He scratched the back of his head, still believing this was not an ideal situation, he would sleep better knowing that his help now, could prevent any disasters in the future. He only hoped that Mary would not have him hanged for this. He approached on his horse. "Listen now, I'm planning a two-week journey into West Elizabeth. I'll take you along, teach you how to shoot there. It'll be plenty to learn somethin'."

"It would mean everything to me."

"Alright then, I'll meet you at early dawn by the farm. Bring sufficient supplies for the journey."

"I will Mr. Morgan!" She spoke excitingly as she cued her horse to ride back home.

"And your momma…tell her something sensible, don't lie though." He shouted the last bit behind her, unsure if she even heard. _'Christ, hope I'm not being a fool for agreeing to this.'_

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**The big journey ahead, and the chapters that initially inspired this story :)**


	13. The Journey Ahead

**The Journey Ahead**

It was a usual feeling that woke Amelia on the morning that she was set to embark on the journey alongside the stranger that had come into their lives so suddenly. She couldn't identify the emotion, somewhere between excitement and uncertainty. All she knew was that the world had somehow altered. She lays quite still, not lifting her head, trying to configure the change. It was dark, but not as dark as it should be at the time in the morning. Summer mornings were lighter with each day. Across the bedroom, she could see her mother fast asleep as a ray of the sun touched her face.

She told Mary that a horse ranch was hiring up north, not too far from here. She reasoned that this way, she will earn back Gin's stay and a little bit more money to spare. It would only be for a week. Lies have become a usual occurrence between her and mother. A relationship strained, she simply felt that telling the truth would only result in having to be denied what she wanted. Unnecessary lecturing.

Take last night as an example as Amelia came home from the saloon, Mary was not pleased; not with her recent isolation and secrets, the many bruises she would come home with, the trouble she would bring onto herself, and most of all, the gun that she held onto for bargaining reasons. Mary let her have an earful of her thoughts on how her daughter's life is sparling out of control using the tiresome phrase of how she doesn't know what her daughter is turning into.

But Amelia stood her ground, justifying the erratic behaviour with reasons such as how violent the world around them is, and how she's just responding to it. Naturally, the argument escalated to blaming each one for past choices that they did not agree on and the women went to bed on bad terms.

The house was filled with silence now, expectant, like a pause between the intake of breath and the uttering of a word. Soon there would be the muted roars of the furnace coming alive in the basement. Amelia slowly rose her body, tossing each leg out of bed before promptly getting dressed. She pulls out a small wooden box from deep underneath the bed, opening it to reveal a stack of papers wrapped in a woven string. She bites her bottom lip while undoing the knot, shuffling through the bunch of papers, unfolding individual pieces, and glancing at them with frantic eyes, _'All still here.'_ She comes across a rather lengthy document that reads: Western Expansion of the Transcontinental Railroad as planning by Robert D. Linton. She lets out an exhale, _'What a heavy burden…'_

She glances once more at Mary, making sure she is still asleep. She places the stack of documents back in the wooden box, tucking her secret far underneath the bed.

She made her way downstairs, slowly and as quiet as possible. But the old farmhouse floorboards would creak with each step and she could only hope it wasn't loud enough to wake anyone. The dishes left on the table indicated that someone was there before her. She glanced out the window; in the distance she sees the owners of the farmhouse tending to their livestock.

On her back, a bag full of the essentials she thought would suit the journey ahead. She packed a bed sheet to use as a tent, two pairs of socks, and a pair of work jeans. As for equipment, she brought along a lasso, binoculars, and a lantern, compass, oil and a wick, some matches too. Small supplies of fruit and a full loaf of bread for starts, assuming they would buy more food along the way. No weapons, not even a knife. Jamie's gun was long gone and probably somewhere at the O'Driscoll property where she had a bloody encounter with the gang.

She stepped outside, salvaging the misty dawn that was upon the land. The mountain air blew a cool morning breeze and she shivered; promptly, she tossed an extra layer of clothing onto her back. It was a wool poncho, an old blanket that her mother turned into a piece of clothing for her. The colors of it were dark, mainly consisting of sandy orange, a thick burgundy stripe running through the middle, and two smaller stripes of black with material fringe ends finished the textile piece. It was quaint, familiar to that of the old west style she was used to seeing back in Oregon. It was warm too, and during the journey ahead, she hoped it would remind her of mother's warmth. Even on the worst of terms, she stilled loved her mother dearly.

* * *

Arthur's horse trotted down the muddy path leading down through town and up towards Chadwick Farm. On his mind were many thoughts, mainly troubling ones; the recent law on their tails and the loss of gang members. Once more the past had caught up with them. Mary was on his mind too. She seemed so overwhelmed by their troubles, yet her eyes still had that spark in them, the one he loved so true. Nonetheless, she just served as a reminder that he couldn't have a life he desired; perhaps it was the clashing loyalty to the gang, or Mary, if only she had stuck out with him through it all. Ah heck, he was kidding himself, she wasn't cut out for this life.

Then he saw Amelia, standing next to the small nag she called Gin, grooming him with a brush in a delicate manner. She hadn't seen him approaching yet. He wasn't far, surely, she should have noticed by now. The rumble of the river nearby was concealing the sound of King's hooves. But even then, she should notice. There was a lot she needed to learn; he could tell straight away.

He mentally scolded himself for agreeing to this foolish proposition. If she was anything like Mary, he was in for a long journey ahead. He guessed she would complain, cry about the cold, become weak at the sight of a wild animals, and eventually need chaperoning back to Valentine - all before the day ends. But a man of his word he was, and he nudged his horse to go forth. He swiftly whistled to grab Amelia's attention; She spun her head and smiled at the approaching man.

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings, kid." He commented and she scrunched her forehead, slightly insulted.

"What do you mean?"

He tilted his head and looked at her with an ironic smirk, _'That's Mary's daughter alright.'_ A bit naïve she was, he shook his head. "Never mind." His voice trailed off, before changing the subject. "Got everything for the journey? Or do you need to stop at the shop."

She didn't answer for a moment, as her attention went from the man's face to his right shoulder, where the rolling block rifle that casually hung from his back glistened from the sun, the light bounced off from the silver barrel with each movement of his shoulder. The gun was imposing, decorated with intricate oak and detailed at the trigger and sight with dark metals. At the saddle, a double-barrel shotgun hung as a back-up. Then she saw the ammunition belt filled with to its brims with bullets, a pair of revolvers at the hip, a hunting knife too. Previously, Arthur was not fully equipped with his usual weapons of choice as he only came around for dinner. So, in this instance, she saw a side to the man that was becoming more prominent; whatever he truly was, he must be a force not to be reckoned with.

Arthur picked up on her hesitation, and her lack of answer to his previous question, "Well, if you got everythin' then mount up kid. Got a lot of miles ahead before the day ends."

He grabbed King's reins, instructing the horse to turn in the direction of the footpath leading out towards the Heartlands. She mounted Gin and followed without a word. He picked up on the trail at a steady walking pace but her pace was slow, falling behind him with each step. He was not a mind reader, and his patience was running thin today; long and sleepless night as Jack cried through most of it while Karen sang drunken ballads and Abigail started arguments with John over her right to be sleeping in his tent instead out with the other girls.

Her eyes glanced at the man's back once more but this time he took notice. "What is it that you keep seeing back there?" He asked, curious himself.

"The rifle," She finally said. "We goin' hunting for big game or something?"

Arthur let out an ironic chuckle deep in his throat, assuming his predictions about her were true. He stopped King and Amelia's horse stopped right next to them - without her initiating the stop. He noted the lack of leadership with her horse too. She glanced back towards town.

He grew impatient before finally questioning her rather harshly, "Are you coming with me or not, kid?" He rubbed his tired eyes. It wasn't the girl's fault. He tried concealing his stand-off demeanour as he shifted in the saddle. It was never easy leaving home, he guessed. "Look," he tried once more, calmer and steadier this time, "There is still a chance to turn around and go back to momma. Out there, well, it's no joke, real rough world."

"This is what I wanted. I need to learn to live in it."

"A mess of your own doing?" He sarcastically questioned.

"It'll be what I make of it."

He nodded without looking back at the girl, "Let's pick it up then." He said as he cued King to a canter. She did the same to Gin, who picked up speed a bit too frantic, trying to pass King.

"Easy on the reins." He pointed out, "Give him some room but you need to be the one in control."

"I'm trying!" She said as her hands traveled up and down the reins, trying to find control. Arthur chuckled and picked up speed on King, surpassing them so they were once more behind.

"Keep back, that'll get him to a steadier pace."

"I know how to ride, he's just a forward horse." Her words were defensive.

"He'll be as forward as you allow him." Arthur took notice of both of her hands on the reins, "Try it with one hand, let the other keep your balance."

She did as instructed and loosened the tension on the reins while only letting one hand hold onto them. With that release, Gin responded by going up a gait, galloping ahead with Amelia having slight fear in the eyes. They passed Arthur and his horse and picked up even more speed with the clear path ahead.

Arthur was quick to react, he raced behind them and in a matter of seconds, he stopped King horizontally in front of the galloping horse, Gin halted immediately, and Amelia fell forward into the mud. She spat the mud out and wiped her face that was turning a shade of red, "I ride just fine on my own! You go on and tell me all those tricks and all of a sudden, I'm flyin' face first Mr. Morgan!"

"You didn't have any control."

"I did! Up until you started spewing your golden tips that I lost control!"

He grunted in frustration at the sarcasm thrown his way. The child was testing him, and he didn't appreciate it one bit. He remembered his youth, and how Dutch first taught him to ride proper, if he were to be this blunt with words, he would quickly be reminded of his place with a slap to the face. He couldn't do that to her. He slid off the horse and towered over her. As she attempted to scramble off the ground, he grabbed the collar of her shirt and lifted her up to his level.

"Stop picking me up like this, I'm not a rag doll!"

_'What an unnatural, rowdy child!'_ What he truly wanted to do is to toss her back on the ground, get on his horse, and leave her behind in a cloud of dust. He sighed, a man of his word he needed to be.

"Listen!" He shook her by the collar, "If this is how you will respond to me through the week, forget it, the deal is off." He threw her back down with more force than he intended. Almost immediately he regretted losing his temper as he felt not better than a common bully, Bill, or even worse, acted like Micha.

She looked down, a little less angry, her ego slowly started dispersing. Remembering her situation and that in fact, it was her idea to ask him for lessons. Maybe she had more than one area to learn, perhaps she wasn't as good as a rider as she imagined herself to be. She bit her lip, not ready to admit her shortcomings. She picked herself up, wiping the mud with little success. "Your way or the highway, huh?"

He mounted King, ignoring her rhetorical question. He nodded towards Gin, giving her the signal to mount up and so she did. Covered in mud and a bit of shame, somewhere beneath all that dirt was an inkling of an apology that she couldn't bring herself to say out loud. Too proud. She stiffed her lip and looked away in both anger and embarrassment.

* * *

Big bison walked lazily in a herd across the uneven grassy landscape. The wind wrestled with their fur as the large cows grunted and snored against the force of nature. The pair followed the animals at their pace, through the Heartlands they trotted slowly - mainly in silence. Arthur seemed to be far away and deep in thoughts and Amelia kept silent not wanting to irritate her companion any further. They rode past the tall grass and graceful birch trees. The thickness of the day was drawn away, the wind had subsided, replaced by the coolness of the approaching evening. Fleeting hues of violet and yellow were seen over the land. They arrived at their first stop at the brim of a cliff just above the Dakota River. In the distance, the state line was visible. Amelia took out her binoculars, she could see West Elizabeth and it was just a short walk across the river.

Arthur set up camp, and Amelia did the same; although not as swiftly and tidy as his tent, she attempted her first try at making a home beyond her usual standards of living. She set up what would be just barely acceptable of a sleeping spot for tonight – only hoping it wouldn't be blown away at night. She emerged from the tent, Arthur had already started a fire with a pot of beans cooking for them, he poured a hot drink into the percolator that bubbled away. She pitched in her supplies too, sharing the loaf of bread and an apple with him.

They sat down, and just like the weather cooled so did their apprehension towards one. He passed a cup of tea towards the girl. She nodded as a form of gratitude, staring down into the hot drink. The rising steam warmed her face nicely, while the cool mint freshened her airways.

"Mint." He poured a cup for himself too. "You'll sleep better."

"Would much rather have a whiskey."

He smiled at the humorous remark. They shared silence between one another, the fire crackling was the only noise in the still land.

Amelia swallowed a lump in her throat, embarrassed, she asked the question that had lingered her mind since the start of their journey, "Do you think I'm a bad rider?"

"Well," He began, straightening himself up in his seat, "You haven't left me impressed after that trick ride you pulled today." He added in that familiar dull mockery of his.

"It's the only thing I thought I mastered. Horses, that is."

"He's a good mount, but that horse needs more guidance. He's young and foolish, like you."

She dropped her head, hiding her face behind the brims of her hat, "I heard that before."

He turned back around to glance at the hitched horses. "He galloped ahead when he shouldn't, would have taken you for one hell of a ride - hurting the both of you along the way."

"I always gallop like that."

"No, he gallops like that. You're just there for the ride. If you plan on learning somethin' this week, you need to come to terms with control." He got up from his seat, intending to go to sleep. Before he left, he turned to her once more, "You're not green, lucky for me. But there is still much to learn."

The words were harsh but honest. Amelia gripped the cup tighter, ultimately though, she nodded in agreement.

A smile crept at the corner of his lip,_ 'Stubborn child, stubborn and full of pride but determined. Reminds me…ah, forget it. I'm too tired.'_


	14. Saddle Up

**Here is another chapter, long in the works but I am very happy with the outcome. Arthur and Amelia are on their mutual journey.**

**I have rewritten bits and parts of the story. I should also mention that I've changed the name of Arthur's horse to King once again. I think it suited better. I am greatly enjoying writing this, and I have many many plans for the story ahead. **

**Lastly, I would like to give a big shoutout to the reviews and followers of the story, it keeps me going knowing that there are people out there who enjoy the story.**

* * *

**Saddle Up**

It was a long and sleepless night for Amelia. The first morning rays flared through the gap in her tent. She lifted her body off from the cold hard ground with great effort. Last night she made an attempt to lay clothes out to cushion her, however, it did little to support. It had been a rough night indeed.

She lightly undid the bandage off from the arm that harboured the bullet just a few days back. The wound was visible with a red ring surrounding the missing chunk of flesh. There was still slight pain, but it was otherwise healing alright. She used her good arm to move the sheets apart before leaving the tent. It was still early dawn; cold and dewy as the land was just starting to come alive.

Down by the Dakota River, a herd of pronghorns made their way upstream prancing gracefully in the shallow ends of the river. Amelia walked the cliff's path, zigzagging down towards the river as she took each step carefully. Her boot slipped and pebbles fell and that was just enough to alert the pronghorns, thus resulting in the herd's immediate departure in the opposite direction.

She smiled to herself, observing the animals as they lived free in these wild parts of this land. Yet they were not that far from civilization, a good few miles from Valentine only. She took comfort in the thought that they were that not far from home, temporary home, but a home, nonetheless. The home where she was safe, and mother waited with a hot meal and her bed was made warm and fresh.

She approached the river, laying her clothes to the side. She began to wash. The water was freezing, as indicated by the goosebumps that appeared throughout her body. She hated to admit to herself the slight bit of discomfort, as she splashed the river water on her face, down her arms, torso, each leg, and back. Carefully she rinsed her wound, hissing between splatters of water.

'_Christ, what ungodly conditions,'_ she thought as another series of shivers ran through her body. She applied ointment and wrapped her wound, dressed herself and picked up the nightly clothes before heading back up the path toward camp.

"Good, you're up." Arthur said as he yawned. He had started a small fire already with a pot of food boiling over it.

"Morning, Mr. Morgan."

"I got some beans from last night on the fire, eat and do us a favour, tack up the horses while I freshen' up down by the river." He took another hefty spoonful of his breakfast into his mouth. "Won't be wastin' time once I'm done, planning on covering a lot of ground today."

"How far it is you wish to go?" She asked while pouring her portion of the food into a bowl.

"At least twenty miles, can your nag handle that?"

"Never rode him for more than three."

"Well, just have to see, won't we?" Arthur glanced at the American Paint she called Gin, next to his mustang he looked like a second-rate mule. He chuckled to himself before commenting, "But if he won't handle, you'll just have to walk then."

Amelia looked ahead at the horses, squinting her eyes since the rising sun was in her view. She raised an eyebrow, "You want me to tack up your horse?"

"Yes, both so they're ready for departure."

"You want me to wash your clothes, too?"

"Do you mean that sarcastically?"

She was unsure if Arthur was joking or threatening. "I'mma just making silly remarks." She paused to gather his reaction, wondering if she said too much once more. He looked away and back to his bowl; she was careful about her remarks this time after the way he handled her yesterday.

She did not ponder further, but rather walked towards the horses. The pair were hitched to a rope tied between two trees. She neared Gin first, who turned his head to the newcomer on his side. The animal greeted her, head down accepting a caring scratch she offered to his forehead. "Sleep well, boy?" She noticed that on the opposite side, her horse was covered in mud as per usual. Upon further inspection, she noticed a fresh wound on the other side of his head, the side closer to King. There were also signs of hooves prints that indicated a bit of struggle on Gin's behalf. His hooves being smaller were distinguishable compared to the mustangs.

She began to brush Gin and piecing together a scenario between the horses that must've occurred during the night. Here is what she speculated: from the short time she knew Gin, he was quite the animated, lively horse who liked to throw himself on the ground to roll in all kinds of mud. He did so during the night, pulling the mutual rope downward thus dragging King with it. This must've startled the horse, who must've reacted in aggression, kicking Gin right by the left eye.

"Poor thing." Amelia traced the wound, causing Gin to neighed and tossed his head up in discomfort. She hushed the horse. King gave the pair a lazy look that could be read as disregard. Could horses disregard is such a way? Amelia assumed so from that look. King returned his attention to the ground below where he grazed at the tall grass as if to say, I am not bothered by the likes of you nor will I apologize.

"Yea, I don't like you either," Amelia said quietly to King. She tacked Gin in an orderly and quick way. She returned to camp to gather her belongings into her saddlebags. She returns to toss them over Gin's back. She applied her ointment to Gin's eye, initiating another painful neigh from him.

"Gotta deal with _that_ beast now." She glanced at King then back at Gin. To avoid any more unnecessary kicks to the poor animal's face, Amelia lead Gin to a tree stump with a branch to which he would be hitched to and away from the unpredictable mustang.

King observed Amelia as she walked back towards the hitching post, dark eyes fixated on her as she approached with a brush and hoof pick. The first few attempts at cleaning simple dust off the coat were met with the horse pushing her away with his head, stepping away from her touch, and even a few stomps to signal impatience.

She moved on to cleaning the hoofs, asked the animal to lift its leg with a confident touch to the elbow. He denied, hoof held firm to the ground. She forced the hoof up and onto her knee, cleaning the debris from it. It did not go without King snatching the leg away from her, pushing it back on the ground, and initiating the whole process all over again.

By the fourth hoof, and a warning kick of his hind legs when she neared his back, Amelia was exhausted. She was covered in dust with hair loose in her face soaking up the sweat beading down her forehead. Her arms were tired from holding the large hoofs, she placed them on her hips to rest. She turned to look back in the direction of the camp in hoping Arthur would've been there so she could call for assistance - the poorly mannered animal belonged to him after all. He was not present in the spot he sat in prior - most likely already down by the river. She looked at Gin who was observing this pitiful scene, mid-chew on some grass.

"Gin, I am in need of assistance; he is your own kind so you should know best what to do." No answer, at least she amused herself. "No? Alright then."

The bridle was next, undoing the straps she approached his head; holding it steady with her right arm, she tried to get him to accept the bit with her left hand. To her surprise, it seemed to be going smooth. That is, until King unexpectedly tossed his head upwards, in one swift movement she let go of the bridle as it fell down onto the ground. The sudden motion caused her to lose her footing too and she landed on her behind with a thump. The horse held his head up high. She lifted herself with the bridle in hand, tried to reach her right hand upwards toward his head but even her longest finger was barely able to touch his ears.

"Did you make some pact with Arthur to make my time here more difficult, more so than it already is?" She walked around the horse to the other side of its head, the head that still pointed up and out of her reach and ignoring her frustration.

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to throw the bridle on the ground, tell Arthur to tack up his own stubborn horse and ride back to Valentine. This was not the first time she dealt with a stubborn horse, sure, but between the sleepless night and the horrible conditions of the outdoors, she felt weaker than ever. She shut her eyes tightly and recalled her first stubborn horse, and how her inability and lack of patience eventually had father decide to sell him. She pushed that memory away, no time for reminiscing such things. Then she remembered a trick Duke taught her back in the stable when a shire in need of tacking was too tall for her height.

She placed a hand on King's neck and his skin twitched under her touch. She traced her hand to the whither and up the neck applying pressure now and again, "Lower your head boy, come on now work with me." She whispered to King. After a few minutes, he relaxed and lowered his head. Amelia was able to put the bridle on. He didn't accept the bit immediately, but eventually. "Small victories," her mother would say.

The saddle was next. She had barely any arm strength left to lift the damn thing. She took small hitched breaths as she carried it over to the horse's side, "Here we go." She tossed the saddle, but King moved away. The saddle fell to the ground with a cloud of dust and the sound of clangs of belts against the leather.

_'It ain't for you kid.' _Arthur commented mentally from a distance. He had returned to camp to pack his own belongings. Every now and again he would peer at the struggling girl. He sat on a tree stump to observe the pair. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, squinting his eyes slightly as he released the smoke, '_Any minute now and she'll break down.'_

Amelia picked up the saddle and tried to toss it on the animal's back, twice more the situation would repeat itself as King would move away each time. She would circle him, push him back to the center and try again. Amelia sat next to the saddle, breathing deeply; she used her shirt to wipe away sweat from her forehead. By now the sun was high, blazing down and making this task unbearable. She mentally counted to three before attempting to lift the saddle once more. Her legs felt weak and almost immediately, she fell back down with a thud. There she laid motionless like a starfish; under the weight of the saddle, she watched the clouds soar lazily in the sky.

_'That would be the end of it.'_ Arthur confirmed his prediction. He slapped his hands on his knees before he lifted himself off from where he sat. He began to approach the struggling pair to relieve both the girl and his partner from this painful tacking session.

King noticed Arthur approaching. He turned his head to look down at the laying girl. Maybe she kindled a liking in him towards her, or perhaps it was pity but he lowered his head to nudge her. She placed her hand to his nose, "Come on boy, please." She whispered. King let air out of his nostrils and closed his eyes. Assuming that was her cue, she grunted and gather the reserve of strength to lift herself and the saddle, tossing it over. King did not move away this time and the saddle landed on his back. "Yes!" She shouted, holding both arms in the air to celebrate.

Arthur stopped his stride. A smile crept on his lips for a moment. He lowered his head underneath the shadow of his hat to pull back the content. "How did you get on?" He simply asked with a neutral expression.

"Great," She said, attempting to sound cheerful while blinking the sweat away. She finished tightening the saddle girth.

"Ready to go?"

"Of course." She tried to swallow but she was parched so her voice came out raspy, "Are you?"

He just chuckled at the rhetorical question. "Mount up."

With a heel to the horse's ribs, they rode towards the West Elizabeth state line. Arthur pulled ahead, guided King confidently across the river while Amelia had to convince the frighten Gin that water will do him no harm. They pushed on through the dense forest at a steady gait. Arthur was traveling in his typical fashion, at his typical pace, but Amelia fell behind often. She watched his back and it almost felt as if she were chasing him. They rode mainly in silence, thinking on private thoughts. Arthur knew she was right behind; he felt her eyes on him. Desperate eyes lost in the forest, relying on his guidance. He assumed she had never gone this far into the wild.

After a few miles left behind in their clouds of dust and a good three hours into the ride, Amelia felt her backside hurt. Her hands were starting to tense up, she would swap rein-holding hand often to relieve some pressure. She wished to ask for a rest. She bit her tongue and only splattered water from a canister on her face. They pushed on.

They swapped gaits until the horses were at a walking pace. Amelia hoped that was it for today. She hoped that they had sufficient miles behind them to satisfy Arthur. They paused for a brief moment near a river, the horses drank. Arthur ate a few pieces of jerky and replenished his thirst with water. Amelia tossed her leg out of the stirrup to dismount down.

"Let's go!" Arthur commended to his horse. Probably to her too.

She held one leg in the stirrup while the other hung on the same side in the air. She heaved a sigh and tossed the leg back across the horses back. Heel to rib and they were off once more trying to keep up with the pair.

They rode steady for another two miles. She could not feel her arms nor her backside, her legs started to tense up and she found herself becoming off-balance. The sleepless night was catching up to her now and her eyelids would slowly slide down. She blinked her eyes awake and held onto the saddle horn for extra balance. She looked at the passing scenery and saw the beautiful mountains ahead. That moment of diverted attention off from the road caused a series of quick events to occur. This is what happened: Gin tripped slightly, as horses often do, but did not lose his stride. Amelia, on the other hand, was not so quick to react, as it caused her to jolt forward. Her hand missed the saddle horn. She squeezed her leg but instead caught a cramp and she was flung off the horse and onto her side. The lack of sleep and endless riding finally caught up to her. She laid there on the ground, silently groaning in pain.

A shadow came into view of the sun. Arthur rode up to their side, he rested his arms on the saddle horn and tilted his head as he looked at her, "Guess we'll make camp here tonight."


	15. Sounds of Wilderness

**Hello once again! I would like to begin by saying thank you to all the new followers and the great reviews: The guests, SHIELD Agent Hero, and Opaquee - I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far and thank you for the support.**

**Onto another chapter, where we see the pair heading further into West Elizabeth, encountering some wildlife, and eventually, stumbling on Appleseed Timber.**

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**Sounds of Wilderness**

The first days of the journey were for the most part calm. The weather was about half-bright when they began their travels on horseback. Arthur paid Amelia little mind. He mostly kept to himself, planning a route of some sort. He certainly had some business to attend to in these parts – so he said back in Valentine when he first proposed this trip. He failed to mention what it was, and never did she question. It felt out of place to ask and she figured if it were necessary, he would share that information.

She hasn't had a chance to progress in her shooting. The one time he allowed her to try, she missed all the targets and had to return the gun. This prompted her to think that, perhaps, Arthur didn't trust her with it. All was left to admire the scenery, the mountains that sprawled across, and the total wild nature of the untouched forest. The trees swayed peacefully with the cool wind from the east - so refreshing during warm spring days such as this one. She took a deep breath and made a mental observation, _'I adore the weather in May.'_

The following evening Arthur took the time to teach her to prop up a sturdier foundation for a tent. He taught her how to combust a fire. He also mentioned something about stagnating water like puddles and moving water such as rivers – one being the correct body of water to gather a drink from. She forgot which one carried a lesser risk, she would need to ask once more. Arthur read a lot during their rest time. Nature books that taught the traveller what to consume out in the wilderness. She caught glances of pamphlets too; some of which depicted various herb mixtures for medicine, ways to improve arrows for hunting, and a mixture to craft dynamite. He also seemed to be fond of a journal in which he would often write. She figured him to be quite the bright man - contrary to his dull self-mockery comments that state otherwise.

They played a hand of poker one evening. Amelia attempted to teach Arthur the overhand shuffle trick and how to hide a high card up in the sleeve. The very same trick that won her many hands in Valentine.

Amelia began to shuffle the cards once more, "See, it's just a matter of keeping the focus on the top three cards and the high cards."

"I see, that's pretty good, kid. My eyes could just about keep with that though."

"That's the trick. One more round?"

"Sure, if you ain't cheatin'."

"If I win, then let's say I wanna glance at that journal of yours," Amelia offered almost jokingly as if to say, _I know this will trigger a nerve_.

"Not a chance, you'll get a swig of the whiskey instead."

"Better than nothing."

He lost that round and tossed the cards back to her and frustrated he said, "Let me see that trick of yours again."

"That journal first!"

But he only offered that swig of whiskey.

Arthur shook his head as another set of cards was passed between them. He noted her tendency to push subjects to an almost annoying level – although, at times, he found it amusing. He did, however, chose not to participate in her banter further.

* * *

The following day, it rained hard, and the pair made camp under large rock formations. They rested for longer than usual that morning, sipping on coffee and thinking on private thoughts; Amelia flipped through a botanic book he offered to her while Arthur split bullets one by one using a knife. Summer days offered more daylight, therefore, Arthur didn't mind sparing a few hours for rest. Shelter and comfort versus soaking in the rain during hasty travels. He sure was getting to be more comfortable - in the prime days he would prioritize tasks over comfort. Recently, he felt a need to slow down. Perhaps his time at Blackwater allowed him to become too comfortable in sleeping in a bed from time to time and living a more civilized life. But also much has happened in his life recently too. So, perhaps it was the ever worrying problems with his gang that made him feel uneasy and more tired than usual.

He sighed and stopped what he was doing just to look out to the distance. He thought to himself, _'You're getting too old for this you fool.'_

"Where are you from?" Amelia tried initiating a conversation, interrupting Arthur's inner thoughts.

"Not from here."

"I'm from Oregon, the state by the coast, do you know of it?"

"Yes, I know of it."

"Portland to be exact. The city is huge it's so easy to get lost in it. It overlooks a great big mountain too, never thought to travel to it though."

"Mhm." Arthur sounded half-interested, but truly wanted to be left alone

Once the rain stopped at noon, the pair was back on the road. There was little conversation between them as Arthur seemed to have his focus on high alert always, his attention would only sometimes shift from the map he held and back to the road ahead.

They came to a clearing in the forest with a higher vantage point of the land. Arthur scratched his chin, still looking at the map below. He took out his compass. His directions were off, and he felt he was a bit lost. That is, he knew the area, but they certainly have passed this clearing before, yesterday morning he guessed.

They each dismounted and sent the horses to rest.

Amelia heaved a sigh while twirling her fingers. She was, in fact, quite bored. With this new-found prolonged silence, she began to listen. She feared the wilderness would not offer the same solace the city gave her. The city always bustled with familiar noises; city folk were loud, trolleys rang bells for passengers, musicians would play on street corners, everything was lively and there was never a moment when one's mind was not occupied with sound. But the woods were alive with life too, and a different type of noise. An abundance of animals would make themselves known in their own unique way. Even the trees and how they rustled in the wind seemed to be a song. So, she began to adjust to the new land she found herself in, although still feeling foreign, an appreciation began to form.

In the distance, the growl of a Grizzly Bear resonated through the rocky surrounding. The sounds pierced Amelia with fear – and right in the very same moment she began to apricate being out in the wilderness. Her eyes darted to Arthur for their next move.

"I got it," he said ever so calmly, pointing to the map.

The horses were drinking by the river when Arthur whistled to grab their attention. King instructively trotted towards Arthur and Gin followed soon after. They mounted their individual horses and rode towards the path leading into the forest once more.

* * *

They ran the horses across the forest, hasting alongside pronghorns that scattered upon their sight. In their next rest stop, they made a camp further into the wild than before. On a grassy opening between a mixture of leafy and pine trees. A thin river, small yet mighty, snaked throughout the opening. Freshly bloomed crocuses covered the hilly terrain - these flowerers greeted the oncoming summer and graced the land with their beauty. Amelia heard the name Big Valley being murmured by Arthur when he closed his map.

"How about a lesson?" he offered.

She happily accepted, hoping that this time she will progress more than before under his watchful eye. He motioned her to sit next to him and she obliged.

"Can you clean and reload a gun?" Arthur asked, placing the gun firmly before her. This was one of three guns he laid before her. A cattleman revolver, a bit outdated with slight rusting along the barrel. The other two guys were a sewed-off shotgun and a carbine repeater. He placed gun oil before her and her face formed the slightest scowl, not impressed with the task given.

"Sure, that seems elementary enough."

"Go for it then, them three guns." He left her with those instructions. Arthur walked over by a pine tree, leaned on the wood, and sat down comfortably. He tilted his hat to cover his face and provide shade. "Wake me when you're finished."

Amelia sighed, slightly disappointed with his lack of interest in her teachings. Didn't account for him for the lazy type when she first met him. But she figured that is the nature of the cowboy, easy-going yet unpredictable. She began to work with the guns.

"Do me a favor," Arthur said while fixing his shoulder, "Point them guns the other direction, don't want to be accidentally shot in my sleep."

She waited for him to dip his head below the hat's shadow, before mouthing back his last remark in a mimicking and joking manner, "Point them guns in the other direction, don't want you shooting me in my sleep."

He lifted his head swiftly to glance at her and she reacted by dropping her sight onto the guns.

* * *

By late afternoon, Arthur was in a hurry to be on the trail once more. They headed south of the Grizzlies at a steady pace. Arthur mentioned a stop in town and Amelia mentally rejoiced at being able to experience a smidge of civilization. Throughout the journey, she didn't want to voice her discomfort as she knew that any complaint would make her out to be a tenderfoot_._ Even though she could not feel her back from the saddle or that her rein-holding hands began to sting - she was determined not to give Arthur anything to chaff her about. Although he never voiced such comments, she could feel that she was an unnecessary load on his travel.

They turned right off Diablo Ridge and headed on a clear path between the forest. Along the way, dense vegetation of the forest began to thin out as freshly cut tree stumps became a more common sight. On the horizon a large campsite came into view. As they neared the camp, the sound of heavy machinery echoed throughout. They saw lumbermen cutting down tall trees. Logs that must of weight a least a ton were hauled by means of a steam engine powered crane, loading them onto locomotive carts.

An engineering operation in the middle of nowhere.

"That's incredible," Amelia whispered to herself.

"Come on, let's head down," Arthur instructed.

They followed a path that lead down towards the logging operation. Between the clangs of metal, there were sounds of men shouting orders to one another. A large log was hauled right above their heads, forming a swaying shadow that covered the sun. Amelia's gaze followed the timber above and she accidentally walked Gin straight into King. She mouthed a sorry to which Arthur did not pay attention to.

"Hello there, weary travelers!" A man greeted them while sitting at the porch of the small office, he waved at the pair. He was middle-aged, styled a thick beard across his face, and dressed in finer clothes suited for the job of the foreman of the operation. His voice was assertive but friendly.

"Hey there," Arthur replied back, "We're just passing through, takin' a look."

"We're with the Appleseed Timber Company. Head foreman." The man rose to his feet and approached the pair. They both dismounted their horses to shake the foreman's hand. He didn't follow the introduction with his name but rather began to complain, "We're about half-way through this here site, and would you believe we're already out of supplies?"

"Well foreman, from my experience most man will try their best to avoid all means of work if they can."

The men laughed between one another.

"Exactly, and that is why were are where we are. See, we should be further along at this operation but what can you do? Look at these dolts - not a brain between them. Listen,-" The foreman lead Arthur away to discuss a business proportion.

Amelia did not feel interested in the men's business chatter. She began to look around the site, hearing a man yelled "Timber!" she observed the tree fall down from its graceful height and onto the ground with a loud thud.

"That's brilliant," The foreman exclaimed as Arthur handed him spare supplies that he requested. The proposition was any spare food or medicine. The foreman paid well, double the prices for some items which Arthur no longer had either use or need to carry. He would resupply in the near town.

"You're heading to Strawberry, yes?" The foreman asked.

"We are, not too far from here if my memory serves me right?"

"Still a few miles, how about you two make camp here tonight? To show gratitude for the supplies. We just happen to have a spare tent available, and we're planning a hog roast tonight."

"Yea, I don't suppose I can say no to that hog roast"

"Then it's settled!"

"What say you, kid?" He turned to look back but only saw the horses and no Amelia insight. "Where did she go?"

The foreman only offered a shrug, popping a cigar into his mouth while walking back to his cabin.

'_Damn girl wondered off without sayin' anything.' _An image of all the horrible things that could happen to her out here cross his mind – and more importantly, Mary was on his mind, and not in the best of ways. If anything were to happen to Amelia, he would have to answer to Mary. He could only think one thought, _'Shit.'_

And so, Arthur began to worry - a feeling that he did not want to welcome into his mind, especially worry for the young girl. After all, she was not his responsibility. He walked across the field, approaching a group of men who happened to be between work, "Excuse me, gentlemen, have you seen the young girl that was with me? She's about this tall, brown hair."

They all looked at him.

With a friendly tone, one of the men pointed out, "The one that has a mind for machines, eh?"

"I suppose so?" Arthur's tone indicated that he didn't know, but he assumed. After all, there weren't many women around these parts so that must be her they spoke of.

"Yea." Another one said between bites of his sandwich, "She's up there with young Joey, he's showing her the latest timber-hauling-machine-whatever."

A third man chimed in, "Better get there quick mister, saw that flicker in young Joey's eyes he's probably sweet on her by now. Might have your daughter married off before sunset."

The group erupted in laughter, possibly at the girl's foolishness or that perhaps young Joey might be their usual means of comedy – whatever it was, Arthur ignored it, that, and their assumption on their relation to one another. He headed in the direction to which one of them pointed. He approached a young man operating the steam engine crane. The boy was average height with dark features - dark brown hair and brown eyes. He looked to be one of the more juvenile workers on site.

"Hello son, are you Joey?" Arthur said, prompting Joey to scatter to his feet as if Arthur held some sort of authority to him.

"Yes, sir."

"And have you seen the young girl that arrived with me?"

Joey blushed for the briefest of moments before hiding behind his hat, "She's up at the log."

"What?"

"Up there, sir."

Joey pointed upwards and on top of the hauling log where Amelia sat on, quite amused with herself.

"For Christ's sake," Arthur murmured to himself. "Kid, get down from there, now!"

"Mr. Morgan isn't this the most innovative piece of engineering you've seen, and I'm sitting on it!"

"No, its a log goddammit!" Arthur turned to Joey and lowered his voice, "Son, get her down and do it safe otherwise I will see fit that you will meet your maker underneath that timber."

"Of course, I understand." Joey quickly scrambled a few leavers and pulls before the log was lowered slowly all the way to the ground.

Amelia looked at both men with excitement, "Can you believe steam fuels this machine? Amazing to see it that close, thank you Joey!"

"Alright now," Arthur interrupted before Joey could say anything. He grabbed Amelia's arm to drag her back towards camp. "I've made some deals with the foreman, he said we can stay the night here."

"I thought you was keen to head to town as soon as possible?"

"Change of plans," he was once more short with her.

"Yea, I mean sure, I like it here."

"Now listen," Arthur turned to face her. "I can't have you walkin' off like that leaving me wonderin' where you gone off to, get yourself mangled by some wild animals, or whatever fate may have in store for you. Not while you're out here with me. Back home you can go to Mexico - see if I care then. But now, no walking off on me without me knowing beforehand, you understand?"

Amelia nodded in understanding, slightly put off at the way he spoke to her. She never cared for people who spoke in such an authoritarian way - demanding and unjustified. She never took Arthur to be such a man, and for this journey to have so many rules. This was turning out to be duller than she imagined.

She hardly remembered the kind stranger who saved her from her ordeal with the O'Driscoll gang; or how he kneeled by her bedside, comforting her in her moments of trauma when her mother removed the bullet a few days back. He seemed more understanding then.

The Arthur that rode alongside her now was different, almost embodying the wilderness around; harsh and brute.

Arthur sensed that he may have been quite disagreeable. He shrugged off the creeping guilt almost immediately before speaking once more, "Let take care of the horses, find our spot for tonight and-"

Amelia walked ahead and he heard her say a half-hearted _"_Yea."

This feeling Arthur could not shrug off, the slightest disappointed in himself and his word choice. He followed on behind the girl and they tacked down their horses in silence. Oh, how he regretted taking her along with him – not so much because of her being a nuisance any more than something else. Somewhere deep in his mind, he could sense a feeling of longing for his old life. The girl embodied everything he could never have but always wanted. Mary, her mother, and the child she was - a child that belonged to the man that took Mary away from him.

And Isaac, he never had a chance to see his son grow. He used to dream about taking his son on such a journey. She was not at fault for his troubled past, however, her presence made him reminisce parts of his life he would rather forget.

Amelia glanced up above Gin's wither for a brief moment and back down to what she was doing previously, undoing the saddle belts. Arthur looked concerned, his eyes showed a deep sadness buried within. She chose not to ask what troubled the man, assuming her questions would only further bother him.

Arthur heaved a sigh, and thought, _'I would have been a terrible father.'_

* * *

**AN: Well there you have it. I'm having a blast with this story, and I hope the readers are too! I'll be updating the next chapter soon. **

**Thank you and please review!**


	16. Appleseed Timber

**Hello readers! I hope all you guys are doing well in these troubling times, and that an escape into some reading/writing provides some happiness to you today. **

**Onto another chapter, but before I would like to once more thank the new story faves/follows, and give a big shout out to the two new reviews from Tweety and imajisaheartlandfan. ****Thank you so much for the support yall!**

* * *

**Appleseed Timber**

The clouds turned a shade of orange when dusk was upon the land. The faintest arc of sunlight still remained on the horizon, but the sky was already turning a shade of dark blue. After a long day of work, all the lumberman gathered around a fire pit to roast a hog, with plenty of beer to go around.

"Nothing stronger than beer!" The foreman made sure to make his men aware that even though tonight they're relaxing, tomorrow is another day for working and no man should be hungover around heavy logs falling from great heights. Their boss graced them with his presence for a few more jokes about the trade before leaving for his quarters.

There was music. An elderly man named Rudy played the guitar. He strung the instrument while young Joey played the harmonic in rhythm to the song. All in all, the men of the Appleseed Timber seem to be a fine bunch to party with and Arthur didn't regret the decision to stay for food and drinks. He sipped on his beer, waiting for the food to be roasted.

"I couldn't lie even if I wanted too!" One of the men proclaimed, his name was Matt and he was one of the more vocal of the bunch. He took another drink of his beer. "The moose up in Roanoke Ridge are twice as large as your ordinary sort, I thought it was a monster when I saw one, ain't no lie. And those antlers, let me tell you – the trophy from them is hanging at my home in Arkansas proudly!"

"I'll see it to believe it, Matt, why don't you run back and get it and we'll wait here - I promise!" Another man chaffed Matt and the circle erupted with laughter.

"Ah, to hell with ya," Matt waved a dismissive hand at the lot of men.

Amelia was sitting on a log near the fire, not adding much to the conversation herself. Arthur was having a good time as he chatted and laughed with the men. They sat next to one another – despite the hostile interaction they had earlier, there seemed to not be any feelings of resentment.

Arthurs's eyes reflected the fire he watched. He had a drunken smile plastered on his face, all that worry that was stewing in him earlier seemed to have evaporated. Either that, or he hid it in the corners of his mind - he wasn't even sure himself. Troublesome thoughts would pass by every now and again and to this, he would respond with a few swigs of the beer.

He hid well when sober – but the drink seemed to have unwound him. With his guard down, Amelia noticed how troubled the man must really be. She saw the conflicting emotions that swirled subtly through Arthur's face. His brows would furrow then relax. The lip would twitch bitterly upward as if reminiscing on some long-lost memory, perhaps pleasant but turned sour. His expression would then return to a passive smile.

_'Not my problem,'_ Amelia thought, finishing her beer while leaning back on the log, resting her hand for support. She looked at the pair of musicians, from Rudy and then onto Joey. She caught glances of Joey's eyes watching her for a moment before looking elsewhere. He did certainly favor looking her way and in one of those moments, she offered a cheeky smile while not breaking eye contact. The most common courtship sees a woman blush and looks away. Amelia did not posses the lady-like subtleness - it caught the young man off guard and Joey looked away first.

Amelia internally laughed.

Arthur noticed this brief exchange, he eyed the boy for a moment and mentally commented on the young man's reaction, _'Smooth, son.'_

* * *

An hour had passed, the music stopped but the chatter was still loud - one of the men passed out the roasted food and everyone tucked into their plate. It was midnight and a million stars decorated the sky above. The weather was cool, but the gathering around the fire provided enough warmth, on top of the food and drinks that kept coming, there was no way one could be too cold.

Arthur glanced over at Amelia who was covering herself in the poncho. He picked the end of the wool material. "That's a fine piece," he commented, initiating the first conversation since their earlier hostile exchange.

"Ma' sowed it for me before we left home in Portland."

"Yea, I do recall she had a talent for that," his words trailed off as he let go of the material. He had a hefty amount of drink in him, but he seemed to be less affected than most men have by now. Amelia, not feeling the conversation regarding her mother's home economics skill would be necessary right about this time, she opted to get some distance from her and the partying man.

She rose up from where she sat, "Can I go for a walk? I'm asking for permission."

"Don't be so sarcastic about it – and yes go…just start yellin' when you see yella' eyes." She scrunched her forehead not sure what he meant by _yellow eyes_. Arthur noticed and so he finished his sentence, "Wolves."

"Ah…well, I'll be just there," she pointed to the rail tracks, feeling a bit more apprehensive about the walk now.

"Take this with ya'," he pointed to the lantern that sat next to them.

"A gun would perhaps be more of a threat to them yellowed-eyed wolves." She tried but he only offered the lamp. She sighed, lighting the lantern and hooking the metal loop around her belt.

Arthur watched her walk off into the darkened region of the field, the lantern provided a beacon for him to follow.

In a matter of minutes, he noticed the young boy whose name was Joey get up from where he was sat, all while eyeing the direction in which Amelia travelled to.

Joey approached the crate with beers, reaching out for two bottles. But someone stopped him, grabbing the same two bottles he held. Joey made eye contact with Arthur and the boy's eyes darted down quickly.

"Going for a walk, son?"

"Yes, I mean, just making rounds around the company ground, normal stuff, needs to be done."

"'Course! But listen," he lowered his voice, "You best not try anything out there and even if a single hair falls off the girl's head…Well, I'll be sure to tie you up an' drag you from here to Tumbleweed right behind my horse. Do we have an understanding?"

Joey swallowed a nervous knot that formed in his throat before nodding in compliance, "I understand, sir."

With those acknowledging words, Arthur let go of the bottles and allowed the boy to have them. As Joey walked away, he could still feel Arthur's eyes on him. Many men threatened, but not many meant it the same way Arthur made these threats sound – Joey feared for his existence around that guy.

"Wow, there are some rough terrains on the roads leading to Tumbleweed!" Joey heard Arthur say before walking off in his own direction.

"Jesus," he whispered to himself.

Joey caught up to Amelia, trying not to startle her by calling out her name. She slowly turned and greeted the boy, when he offered a beer, she accepted that too.

"May I join you for a walk, Miss."

"Sure."

They walked in silence, for the most part, enjoy the peace and quiet the night provided along with the beautiful view of the night sky with countless stars above. Joey took out a silver harmonic out of his pocket. He began to play slowly, a quiet tune that soothed their walk and filled the silence.

"That man you're with, your Pa', would he approve of us strolling like this?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow, "He's not my father, just a friend of my Ma's, don't worry about him"

"Sure acts like a Pa'."

"Don't think he cares enough to worry like a father."

"I don't know - he seems to care. I mean the man has threatened me twice today on your behalf."

"Here I was thinking he wanted me gone," she murmured to herself mostly, certainly amused by this information.

"What was that?"

"Never mind, he's crazy."

He expression was serious, but she aimed to sound sarcastic. When he realized that she was joking, he chuckled at the comment, "You're funny, I'm not used to such humour from where I'm around"

"And where is you around from?"

"Charleston, Mississippi. Ain't nothing special about it."

"What is you doing all the way in New Elizabeth?"

"I was looking for a job, which ain't easy nowadays in Charleston, and well, they were recruiting to various organizations like these, I just got drafted to this particular one," he took another drink of his beer. "Took what I had in one suitcase and was on the next train heading west. What about yourself, where are you from?"

"Portland, Oregon."

"Whoa, big city! A fancy gal like yourself, I assume, is wearing poor frocks as a disguise seeing what the other half of us live like."

"Shut up," she nudged him jokingly. "Ain't like that."

"Well, it sure don't seem like it. You're looking like a regular ol' mountaineer in them pants and poncho."

"Do you have somethin' against pants?"

"No, 'course not – hey, I wear them myself," he nervously chuckled. "So, what is that brings you out here then?"

"Alright silver tongue devil, it's been a long day and that is a long story that I don't particularly want to share tonight."

"Then ask me somethin'."

She thought for a moment. "Don't you ever get lonely out here without family, just all these strangers?" Amelia swirled her beer in the bottle before taking another sip.

"Well," Joey adjusted his posture and cleared his throat, pondering the question for a moment "I'm lonelier back home than I am out here, these guys are better for me than my family."

"Is that a story for another time."

"Sure is."

The conversation seemed to have died between them, an awkward silence ensued, and Amelia felt tipsier with each drink, so she suggested it would be good to head back to camp. At least two hours must've passed since they left - they walked quite a circle around the area. Joey suggested he would walk Amelia back, to which she replied that their quarters are practically next to one another so surely, they must be walking in the same direction. She laughed and he furrowed his brow. In polite society, a lady would happily accept the proposition and let the gentleman guide her through the darkness and back to her quarters. Or so mother would say. While she was no lady, she assumed it be best to take his proposition without any more sarcastic remarks. She nodded and hooked her arm on his - she saw couples do that back in the city. The pair walked alongside one other.

"Why is that you're known as young Joey?"

"The guys tease me about it, I'm the youngest."

"You know, my Ma' to this day calls me 'Melia. Like," She shifted herself toward Joey even more, "Little 'Melia, back when I was a kid, she would call me that all the time and it drove me crazy. Then it sticks with you, ya know?"

"I don't want that to stick. I'm a man now, I'm earning my keep out here with all the other man, so I should think that Joe would suit me better."

"You're still just a boy, Joey." Amelia teased.

"I'm near to being eighteen, I'm defiantly a man."

"Still a boy!"

"Oh yeah?" He spun her around, "Would a boy be brave enough to do this?"

He neared her face with his until their lips touched ever so gently. Amelia closed her eyes and savored the feeling; a warmth overwhelmed her on such a cool evening. A feeling that was unfamiliar, she smiled against his lips. Underneath a million stars, in the middle of nowhere in total wilderness, Amelia Linton experienced her very first kiss. He pulled away and looked at the blushing girl. She, on the other hand, was a little more embarrassed than she would like to admit. Changing the mood, she gave the boy a light smack on the cheek before spinning around.

He stole her first kiss, yet she would not complain of being robbed. "For a small-town Mississippi boy, you sure have charm."

"I knew you were just big talk," he said teasingly.

"Hey! What does that mean?"

"You looked at me like a big shot back at camp, but you blushed too!"

"Yea…cause, I'm embarrassed for you!" She let out a hearty laugh just as they approached the tents back at camp.

"Well, this is us. Goodnight Miss. Linton, I had a great time with you tonight. Before you head out tomorrow, make sure to say your farewells to me – and when you're away, I might just write to you."

"I will…and I might just read these letters too. Goodnight, Joe."

Both teens, smitten after an eventful night, parted into their individual tents.

Amelia entered the tent; the wooden pallet floor creaked with each step. Arthur was still awake, writing in his journal - he paid the girl no mind when as she entered. It was a large living quarter with two beds – both on opposite sides of the tent's walls. In the middle, a washbasin. Next to the basin laid their luggage. She saw that Arthur occupied the bed at the far right, so she claimed the one on the left.

Without lifting his eyes from the book he commented, "I thought you two had run off together for good, it's been hours."

"Ha ha," Amelia sarcastically answered. "I lost track of –"

"I don't care," he drawled.

Amelia rolled her eyes while thinking, _'You do, you big bastard.'_

They did not continue their conversation further.

She plopped on the bed and a wide grin formed across her face; a pillow and a blanket greeted her, and she salvaged the moment of being on something that resembled a bed. While not the best of standards, being that it was only a foldable bed with thick material for a mattress, she could not complain - considering the last few days had her sleeping on the cold hard ground. Within minutes, she fell into a deep slumber.


End file.
